


When You Remember Me

by shinkonokokoro



Category: The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: M/M, depictions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony was supposed to leave on a business trip. Steve tries to talk to him about something important before he leaves, but then they get kidnapped. Steve is released, thanks to Tony, but he doesn't remember a thing about being kidnapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 'kay, for the purpose of this fic, Tony does not have Extremis, everyone is living in Stark Tower, and let's pretend the SHRA doesn't exist/hasn't happened. The Avengers are a mostly-happy, dysfunctional family.
> 
> Now with awesome gifset by [luvindowney](http://luvindowney.tumblr.com)! Found [here](http://luvindowney.tumblr.com/post/33790558345/when-you-remember-me-tony-was-supposed-to-leave)!

"Hey Tony, you got a minute?" Steve poked his head in Tony's room, immediately jerking back when Tony breezed by him.

"Uh, not really, Steve, what is it?" Tony leaned away from his phone's speaker and checked his watch, juggling some folders in his arm while pulling a carry on.

Steve grabbed the folders and suitcase, following him. "Where are you going?"

"That trip to Japan? Remember?" Tony rolled his eyes, but his lips tilted up, so Steve counted that as a gain. "I think I only mentioned it about ten times."

"Tony, you didn't even mention it _once_." Steve followed him into the elevator and looked at him until he sighed into the phone and said his good-byes.

"Okay. You have my attention. Now what did you want."

"How long will you be gone?"

"Steve. Did you _have_ a point?"

"What's the matter?"

Tony threw up his hands and then shoved the cell in his pocket. "Fine. Give me those..." He snatched back the folders and the handle of the suitcase.

"We need to talk about that terrorist cell."

"Oh Jesus. _Now_?"

Lips tightening, Steve looked down, brow furrowed.

"Sorry. Feelings. I forget about those. Sorry sorry," Tony said with a small tilt of his shoulders. "Go on. I'm listening."

"I was going to ask you if you could do some research into their tech. Coulson said it's strange, and we need your help." The elevator dinged and Steve followed Tony out to the car, still trying to convince him to promise to take a look at the pictures that Steve had managed to take and email to Tony's account. "And even if I—Tony, where are we going?" He glanced up at Stark Tower and then at the street. "Where's your car?"

"Steve, you're the one that's following me. Happy said he parked around the corner by the alley. Don't ask me. I just pay him. Something about space in front of the building."

"There was _plenty_ of space in front of the building."

"I don't know! City ordinances. I don't know. Steve. I'll take a look at everything. If I have the time." Tony shifted the materials in his arms again.

"Oh. There's Happy." Steve waved as the black limo pulled up to the sidewalk and stopped.

"Great. I was worried he was actually going to be la—" Tony frowned as the side doors opened and four guys in black jumped out to catch them as they fell from the small darts that landed in their necks. "Shi..."

And then the world went black.

* * *

When he woke again, he kept his eyes shut and just listened, taking stock.

"You are awake."

Tony sighed and opened his eyes, rather unsurprised to find himself tied to a chair. He looked over at Steve, sighed again, unsurprised to see him tied to a chair as well, gag stuffed thankfully into his mouth. Kidnappings were old hat for Tony. He could deal with kidnappings.

"Tony Stark." A thick man stepped out of the shadows into their little circle of light, smiling, the expression of should-be-joy never touching his eyes.

"Aw, see, now you've got the advantage over me. Because I sure as hell don't know who _you_ are..." he rasped. He cleared his throat. "Nice to meet you. And you are?"

"I have no need to introduce myself because you do not need to know," the man said, jutting his chin up, green eyes intense and hollow.

"Great. So if you're nobody, then I can go right?" He shot a glare at Steve as he started to struggle.

"Who is your companion, Tony Stark?"

Tony grinned, his head still feeling a little fuzzy. His eyes roved over the guys in the room, counting, planning, plotting. Upwards of twelve guys. Armed. Multiple weapons. Even if Tony had his armour and Cap had his shield, they were pretty screwed. So... "This guy? He's just some fan-boy. He wanted my autograph. Cute, in't he?"

Steve started struggling more, brows furrowing into a deep 'V.'

Tony forced himself to laugh. "Let the civilian go."

"No."

He chuckled. "Sorry, what?"

"The civilian stays. As leverage. You are a superhero. You would not let us harm him, yes?" The man said silkily, taking a step forward.

"You're not Loki, are you? 'Cause we're still not done with him, and he's being kind of a dick, so—"

"You are insolent, and you talk too much," the man said, returning his hand to his pocket.

Tony shook his head and winced as he tasted copper when he ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth. "Right then. Violence. It's always violence. What do you want?"

"You will do some work for us, Tony Stark. Or else we will kill your civilian. He is angry for you, it seems."

Tony didn't look at Steve, feeling his face settle into his board room mask of smug ease. "You guys know how I became Iron Man?" There was no reply to his query, so he was going to guess no. "I'll tell you a story—ah ah! Do _not_ slap me again, Mr. No One. That doesn't fly with me. Actually, this whole situation doesn't fly with me, but we'll work with it. Because you know what? I work with what I'm given. Speaking of which... When I'm given a whole lot of raw materials and the instruction to build weapons that I don't wanna build, I build an Iron Man suit. And then open a can of whoop-ass on my captors." He stared the man down, actually looking up and meaning serious business. "So if I don't get what I want while I'm your honoured guest, then things are going to go badly for you. Does that make sense? So the civilian goes, and I will build what you require of me. Capiche?"

The man didn't blink, face blank. Tony couldn't read anything off him.

"That's my final offer."

The man cracked a smile. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Stark. However, I think we can work with these arrangements. Provided, of course, you do not open... I'm sorry, how you say? 'Whoop-ass?' We also, can be rather persuasive."

"Of course." Tony offered the same grim smile. "You seem to be a man of business, so I think it is in the best interest of both of ours that things go well, right?" He flicked a look at Steve and winked. "I think the poor guy wants to go home. Ben? Roger, was it? I'll mail you an autograph. Send you a real nice one too." Tony grinned. "Mister big-bad is going to let you go. Right?" He swivelled his head to stare up at the guy who held them.

"It seems that is what would work best for all of us." The man nodded to someone on his left and a woman came out of the shadows with a syringe.

"Woah, woah. What's that!" Tony protested sharply. "That wasn't—"

"Calm yourself, Tony Stark. That is merely a mild sedative with some other enhancements to encourage memory loss of the last few hours. Unfortunately, your admirer will forget having met you and—oh look. That really is quite sweet. He seems very fond of you. Do shut him up."

Tony met Steve's gaze, streams of curses flying through his mind but not passing his lips. "Hey. Sorry, kid."

Steve rolled his eyes and then went limp in his restraints as the syringe was emptied. Some more muscled brutes untied Steve and carted him away between them.

"Great."

"Excellent," the man echoed. "Now. Shall we get started?"

He stared after Steve and then met the man's eyes. "Now? Now. No time like the present. God, I hate that saying. Stupid, isn't it." Tony rolled his eyes, worry making his mouth looser.

"We have plans for a machine we would like you to build. And never fear, Tony Stark. I worked as a mechanic when young, and I will know what you do."

"That was when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, right?" Tony glanced up at the man's silvering hair.

"You think yourself so clever..."

"Isn't that why I'm here?" Tony blinked at him. "You can't build it yourself?"

The man sighed. "I'm afraid I met with an accident that's left my nerves a little...how you say...twitchy. I no longer have the fine motor function that I once had. I wanted your expertise. Seeing as you are probably the only one who can read the designs." The man looked into the shadows, nodding at another faceless goon. Another _muscled_ faceless goon who brought a work board over, the designs tacked up nicely.

"Not bad on the presentation," he said automatically, eyes flitting over the specs. "Could be a bit flashier. Flashy sells well. Take it from one who's made millions that way..." He frowned. That was... "Where did you get these?"

"I commissioned them," the man said. He almost sounded proud.

"From whom?" Tony asked lowly.

"I believe you know him. The esteemed Doctor Reed Richards."

"Fuck."

"Now, Tony Stark. No need to be crude."

Snorting, he leaned back into the back of the wooden chair. "He made you these? Willingly?"

"Well. Of course we had _some_ leverage..."

"The damn coward."

"Do not be so hard on the man. We did threaten his children, after all."

He bit the inside of his cheek.

"You _will_ work with us, Tony Stark?" The man pulled a hand from his pocket and examined his nails. "Not to be repetitive, but we do know of your contemporaries, and we will not be afraid to...take them out during an altercation."

"I already agreed," Tony said casually. "And I don't respond well to threats. You should know that by now."

"Indeed."

"So. If we're to work together, I normally like to know my partner's name."

The man smiled kindly. "That, you will not get."

"So what'm I supposed to call you then?"

"You may call me whatever you like. I am sure you are likely to do that as it is." He nodded to another person in the shadows. "Perhaps you are hungry? Would you like to eat?"

Remembering the distasteful mash in Afghanistan, Tony sat very still as a hardened-looking woman came to untie him.

"I am a civilised man, Tony Stark." He smiled again blankly. "We shall dine together."

Refusing to rub his wrists, Tony smoothed the wrinkles in his suit, grateful that he was uninjured, aware, and now, untied. "Didn't know I was here for a dinner date."

"Think of it as an investment in business." Arching an eyebrow, the man angled away from him as if to indicate that Tony should proceed.

He stretched and rolled his shoulders before slipping his hands into his pockets and squinting into the darkness.

"Ah, you are correct. So sorry." The man whistled through his teeth and someone came running with a flashlight.

"Having electricity problems?" Tony waited out of arm's reach.

"Not as such, no. This place was never built for such uses. Therefore, I am afraid the amenities are not what you're used to." The grunt nodded to the mystery man and then pointed the flashlight at the ground ahead of them to lead the way.

Looking at the bare rock walls with water stains and dirty floors, Tony mumbled, "It rather is what I'm used to, actually. I suppose you're not going to tell me where here is?"

"That would defeat my purpose, of course. You are not quite so stupid, Tony Stark. Do not ask stupid questions."

"See that's funny, because here in America, we have a saying that says no questions are stupid," Tony quipped, looking for an opening. Looking for an opening that wouldn't end with him holier than he currently was. Despite the fact that he hadn't found one yet, he was glad for Steve's training.

"We both know that to be untrue."

Tony snorted. "So what do you want from me?"

"Please. Business after dinner. I am hungry. Left here."

Tony pushed open the door to a rather well-lit room, a dining table, and the smell of steak. "Oh. Wow. So uh...dinner, huh?"

"You seem the type of man to appreciate fine food. I thought we might share."

"I'd have been fine with something that didn't look like vacuumed carpet fuzz and smelled like the bottoms of someone's feet. But hey. Steak is fine. I can do steak."

"Please sit. Wine?"

"Uh, no. I don't do wine anymore." Tony sat on the other side of the table, his back facing the wall and tucked the napkin into his lap.

"No? That is a shame. I have a very nice _Romanée_ Conti."

He sucked in air through his teeth. "That is... That is a very. Um. Nice offer. I'm afraid..." He closed his eyes and pushed the urge away, thinking of Steve and his proud little smile every time Tony was confronted with an opportunity to drink and he chose water or some sort of juice instead.

"We are all afraid, sometimes. I understand."

"No you don't," Tony snapped. "I cannot accept your offer of wine, but I will take a glass of water and grape juice if you have it."

"Very well. Get the man a glass of iced water, and we might have a soda he can drink."

"So kind of you," Tony drawled. He watched the people around this man jump to follow his orders. They were apparently either very well paid or very loyal. He couldn't tell which, but was banking on loyalty because of the plain looks on their faces, willing, not sullen and forced. He watched as a few of the men came in, poured Mystery Man's wine and Tony's water. Then lifted the trays off of their plates. Nose assaulted by the smell of deliciously seasoned meat, and Tony realised that he really was starving. He hadn't eaten in...how long? He frowned. Breakfast was coffee, lunch was... non-existent. Dinner the night before? Um... had been in meetings. Lunch the day before...lab work... Well. It'd been a while.

"Do dig in, as you say." M&M waved a hand at the table. "Enjoy."

So Tony ate.


	2. Chapter 2

When Steve woke, he was slouched on a bench in Central Park. Blinking into the waning light of the day, he frowned, looking around at the people. He fell asleep? That wasn't... His frown deepened. Nobody paid him attention. He put his hands down on the bench and his right slipped on a newspaper. He'd slept? In a public place? Reading a newspaper... Steve frowned and stood, shaking himself out to head back to Stark Tower.

Waving to Jarvis as he entered, he took the elevator up and ran into Jan.

"Hey Steve! There you are! Where were you?" She smiled.

"I was... I don't know. I guess I fell asleep."

"Fell asleep?"

"In Central Park."

"Huh. You never do that!" She turned back towards the big living room, organising some papers.

"I know..." Steve said slowly, frowning about. "Hey... Where's Tony?"

She looked up at him. "He's been gone for a while now. You remember? His trip to Japan?"

"Oh..."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine... I guess..." He frowned, thinking. "I guess sleeping threw me off."

Jan laughed. "Well, we're having a sit-down dinner tonight, since everyone's going to be here. You're going to be here tonight, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be here." He smiled at Jan. "I'm going to... I'm going to go shower. I guess. I'm. Yeah."

Jan laughed again. "Aw, baby. Go get yourself straightened out."

Steve indulged himself in a rare long shower, letting the water sluice over his body and warm the chill that didn't come from cool temperatures. He towelled himself off and then 1aid naked on his bed while the shadows slowly took over his room and made it dark. He watched the play over the ceiling, frowning over his strange afternoon. He never fell asleep in public places. Especially not one so open as Central Park. Call him paranoid, but Steve had better instincts than that. The soldier in him cringed wildly at his blunder. That had been foolish. There were enemies everywhere. He couldn't take those sort of chances.

He sighed, skin chilling in the darkness.

He hadn't even found Tony to say goodbye to him before his trip. Maybe that's what was bothering him. He always said goodbye to Tony and told him to have a safe trip. It was just a thing. And he'd wasted time at Central Park, missing his friend's departure. Stupid.

He scoffed to himself and rolled onto his side.

This was juvenile behaviour. Acting all off because he'd missed saying goodbye to Tony?

Rolling off the bed, he dressed and searched out his cell phone and called Tony's number. He probably had it off because he'd still be on the plane... But he could leave a message. Allowing himself a small smile, Steve paced his room as Tony's phone went to voicemail.

_Hello beautiful. If you're listening to this, I'm obviously not available, because I'm probably doing something like saving the world or inventing something to save the world. It's what I do. But hey. When I've got the time, I'll get back to you. Probably. Now get on with it and tell me what you have to say!_ - _beep_ -

Steve chuckled. "Your message is so arrogant, Tony... I can't believe you get away with that. Anyway. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for missing you before you left. I didn't get a chance to say 'bye,' so I'm saying it now. Bye! Have a great trip, and I'll see you when you get back. We'll take care of the world for a little while. Have fun. Bye."

He hung up and then set his phone on the dresser to answer the knock at his door.

"Let's go, Cap! Dinner!" Peter said, bouncing by to knock on the next door.

Steve smiled and made his way to the dining room. "What's the occasion?" he asked when he'd taken his place at one of the heads of the table. Out of respect, Tony had said, when they sat down for a team dinner to celebrate their latest victory. You're the team leader, he said. Then why do you get the other head of the table, Peter had groused, sliding into a chair. He'd broken a wrist and wasn't too happy about it. Tony had only grinned and shaken his head. I own the place, of course.

Jan whirled into the room and sat herself down on his right. "Sit down dinner. Tony hates them, so while he's gone, I'm taking the advantage of being civilised beings and organising a sit-down dinner."

He chuckled. "I'm sure Tony'll be glad to hear that..."

"The man never really eats anyway," Clint mumbled as he shuffled in and found an empty chair.

"He does so!" Steve protested.

Snorting, Clint gave him a look over the top of his shades. "Don't bother, sweetheart. We all know you're sweet on him. No need to defend. Besides. We think of it as a stupid annoying endearing trait, rather than just a stupid annoying trait." He grinned and tipped the chair back on two legs.

Luke Cage entered, ghosted by Natasha, and grabbed the back of his chair and pushed it down cause Clint to swear and grab at the table, flailing. It caused more than a few chuckles as more people trickled in, and before long the table was full.

Steve smiled around at them and lifted his glass of wine. "Well, I'll toast to our continued safety and success! Here's to Jan's recent success on her new line. Here's to Peter's article getting recognised."

"Woah, I didn't even know you _knew_ about that, Cap!" Peter whispered.

"And here's to Luke and Jessica's Dani turning three!" There was a chorus of clinked glasses and then swallows.

"Thanks, Steve." Jan smiled at him and then nudged shoulders with Hank next to her. "We have an announcement as well. Hank and I are getting married. Again."

Steve added his voice to the well-wishers and then conversation erupted as they got to the eating part, beans passed, cornbread cut, and Jarvis fetching a refill on the water pitcher.

"Geeze, nice to have the night off," Hank said around a mouthful of meatloaf.

"Damn it, Hank!" Clint groaned. "Now you've gone and cursed us! Everybody eat fast; we're not going to get to finish!" And began shovelling food into his mouth.

"Don't be ridicu—" Steve sighed as the Avengers alert went off.

Clint groaned again, Peter, Luke, and Carol joining him. "Damn it!"

"Avengers Assemble," Steve said grimly and ran to his room to get his costume on.

* * *

The beat back the villain—some raving lunatic driven mad by his semi-psychic powers. So they trooped back to Stark Tower and their dinner—cold, on the table.

"Welcome back," Jarvis said with a smile. "Shall I reheat it?"

"We didn't get to dessert," Clint said, as if that were an answer.

"I'm probably hungrier than when we started!" Luke said, picking at a piece of cornbread from his plate.

"We can start an assembly line with the microwave..." Steve suggested.

"No need, Captain Rogers," Jarvis smiled. "The oven is now hot. The plates will warm nicely."

"You're the best, Jarvis," Carol said, stretching her arms up. "Geeze... I'm gonna need a hot shower."

"Why don't you go take one, and by the time you're finished, the food will be ready. All of you." Jarvis lifted a few plates from the table. "Go on and take your time."

Peter dropped his mask on his chair. "You really are the best, Jarvis."

Steve helped carry the plates into the kitchen where Jarvis cycled them through the oven.

"Really, Steven, go ahead and get your shower if you need one. I shall be fine," Jarvis said, shooing at him.

So Steve set the plates down on the counter and went to change. In the dim of his room, he sighed into the dark at the feeling that he had missed something. He checked his phone. No message from Tony. So he stripped and wiped off the sweat with a washcloth and then dressed in his clothes from earlier. By the time he was back in the dining room, people were lounging in their chairs, Jan slumped against Hank, Luke holding Jess close, Peter hanging from the ceiling languidly.

"Good job today, everyone," he said as he sank into his chair. "You all did well."

Carol just groaned. "Why are bad guys so stupid?"

He chuckled.

"Because they have little else to do with their minds and talents," Natasha commented

"Dinner is served," Jarvis proclaimed as he coasted in and deposited plates on the table again. "Be careful. They're hot."

They dug in again and when all were sated, with seconds provided by Jarvis, Peter suggested movie night.

"What did you have in mind? Because if you want to watch another one of those stupid teen movies—"

Peter cut Clint off. "Hey! It was 'Not Another Teen Movie,' and it was funny. It's a parody." He sniffed.

Clint snorted. "Taste like the kid you are."

"Alright, alright," Steve said, standing. "Let's get the plates into the kitchen, and then we can go choose. I'm sure Tony's got something that we haven't seen."

"His collection is rather extensive..." Jan said.

"I am sure Master Stark would not mind you browsing his collection at all," Jarvis assured.

"Woohoo!" Clint vaulted over the back of his chair and was out of the room in seconds. "Dibs on movie choices!"

"Hey hey hey! I don't think so!" Peter was swinging out of the room after him.

"I predict this will be a disaster," Steve said. He helped Carol, Luke, Jan, and Jess clear the table. Then joined the rest of them into the family room after grabbing and checking his phone, just in time to hear Peter whine, "I _just_ saw Blade Runner! I'm not watching it again!"

"And _I'm_ sick of Die Hard!" Clint exploded, throwing up his hands.

"What about the Matrix?" Natasha suggested.

" _Really_?" Luke groaned. "Not the fucking Matrix. Sick of that shit."

"Monty Python!" Peter suggested.

"Peter, the only one who likes that movie is you," Carol laughed. "No, what about Jaws?"

"I don't like sharks, and Dani's in the house," Jess said, relaxing into the couch.

"What about the Shawshank Redemption? Someone recommended that to me," Steve suggested, taking his usual spot.

"Better than Schindler's List. Geeze, that was depressing," Natasha drawled.

"I'm okay with that. Haven't seen it in years," Peter said, jumping to the wall.

"Good," Steve said. "Clint? Carol?" There was a smattered chorus of 'fines' and 'sures.' So Clint dug it out of Tony's collection and they popped it in the player.

"Popcorn?" Jarvis called from the doorway.

"I'm fine." Steve said, smiling over his shoulder. "Come and join us, Jarvis."

The lights dimmed as Jarvis passed and then sat in the chair Tony usually occupied. He gave Steve a small smile which Steve returned.

* * *

After the DVD was returned to its case and back in its proper place (Tony would whine otherwise), Steve made his way to his room and went about his business. Checking his phone. Brushing his teeth. Washing his face. Turning down his sheets. Drawing the blinds. Checking his phone. The unease from earlier remained. He wasn't tired yet either. So he pulled out his drawing pad and the stub of a pencil and doodled a while he waited to be tired. Eventually, the clock hands had ticked around enough times that Steve could overlook his unease and tuck himself beneath the sheets, flick off the light, check his phone once more, sigh, and then roll over to fall asleep.

_Tony was falling. Falling away from Steve. But he was in the armour. So he should be fine. He could use the jet boots. He tumbled head-over-heels and then Steve saw. Tony didn't have the boots on. They were missing. They were gone. Tony wasn't wearing the boots. And Steve was on a balcony with no way down to catch him. Steve shouted for him_. _Yelled for Tony again._

Steve started, inhaling sharply as he was quite very suddenly awake. This was not good. He groaned as he looked at the clock. 4:16. It was way too early for this. Steve sighed and rolled out of bed. He wasn't going to be sleeping again. Grabbing a novel off his dresser, he stopped off at the kitchens for a glass of milk before planting himself in the living room for a very early morning.

Shortly after the mantle clock chimed 5:30, Jarvis came through and opened the blinds.

"Couldn't sleep, Captain Rogers?"

"Jarvis." He half-started, jerking on his elbow. "Good morning."

"Need anything, Sir?"

"No. No, Jarvis. I'm fine." He smiled tiredly and waved him on.

"Very good, Sir. I'll just begin breakfast?"

"Thank you, Jarvis." Steve smiled and leaned back into the sofa, head resting on his fist. And if he dozed off...? Well, who was going to blame him?


	3. Chapter 3

Tony didn't do any work the first day. M&M made him look over the plans and make a list of all the materials that he would need. Then he ordered him to bed. Early to sleep, early to rise.

Tony laughed. "I'm sorry. You must really not know me at all. I can sleep when I'm dead." He paused. "Not that...you know. I encourage that type of thinking. Because I don't. But I'm hardly tired, and I am curious about this machine. What does it do exactly."

"You do not need to know, Mister Stark."

"Mm, perhaps not. However, it usually does help me in putting the thing together. You know. Form following function and all that." He folded his arms and gave the man a friendly smile.

Sighing as if put upon, M&M's eyelids fluttered.

"Oh come on now. You're going to keep it a secret?" Tony grinned.

"You are very trying, Tony Stark."

"So I've been told, M."

"M?"

He chewed on a lip. "Mm, fitting, actually. I think. Partially. Been calling you 'mystery man' in my head, so really it's "M&M," but that's too long. So just M. M was the head of MI6. So you know. M for mystery. It's all sorts of fitting."

Smiling wanly, M strolled around the table. "I see."

"Big fan of James Bond, you know. 'Course, I think I'm just a better, smarter, cleverer _version_ of James Bond, so... You gonna tell me what this thing does?"

"This is a special machine..." The man paused in front of the board where the designs were tacked and trailed a finger along them.

"Yeeess...?"

Clearing his throat, he turned to face Tony. "I need this machine. I will not tell you now. Leave it to your... _considerable_...imagination." Another thin smile.

Tony sighed. "That will be... That will be very frustrating for me. I don't know if I can work on it if I don't know what it is."

"You will, Tony Stark, work on my machine. And perhaps, when I am ready, I will tell you what it is supposed to do. Now. Get some sleep, and you will begin tomorrow." He picked up the list off the table. "We will have your materials and tools that you need to work."

"I'll get my own workshop?"

"You shall have your own workshop."

"High tech?" He arched his brows up hopefully.

"It will have everything you require. Now please follow Jan here, and she will show you your room."

"I get my own room? Wow, you really know how to show a guy a good time." He watched Jan—mousy Jan, flat blonde hair. Her lip almost curled as she looked at him.

"Follow me," she said lowly, voice a little husky.

"Hey babe."

"Touch me and die."

Tony made a face at the wall and immediately waited until he was about four steps behind. "Right then. So... you're probably not one for parties..."

"Not with the likes of you."

So they didn't like him. Obviously. The guy have something against Stark Industries? Tony frowned at her back. Did they all? Was this a work-together-to-take-down-the-enemy type of deal?

Jan paused in front of a door. "Here. You'll be guarded. So don't even think of sneaking out."

"Wouldn't want to sneak past you, darlin.'"

"Call me that again, and you'll find that you can suddenly sing octaves higher."

He hissed with a grin. "Ooh, you... That's just not nice." Let them think he was a bit dumber and much less concerned than he actually was. Always use your advantages, Stark. Steve had told him that. Use what you have.

"Get in the room, Stark."

"Ouch! Not even graced with a 'mister?' Even your employer does that..."

"Get. In. The room." She pulled out a knife.

"Aaaand you probably know how to use that really well, don't you..." He raised his hands in placation and backed into the open door that she then shut in his face and locked. "Good night to you too, sweetheart!"

He sighed and looked around, the cot looking relatively comfortable. There was a basin and a towel, a toilet, and, of course, the cot. Which was so kindly bolted to the floor. Tony stripped off his jacket and hung it on the back of the doorknob. If he was right, then Steve probably didn't remember anything about his kidnapping. So that means he didn't know that Tony was missing and not where he was supposed to be: Japan. Shit, Pepper was going to kill him. That meeting was important. Tony sighed and sank onto the cot, fluffed the pillow, and flopped back. He kicked off his shoes and noted the camera in the corner. So much for plans A-C. And plans D, F, and P. Because _Jan_ was guarding outside the room. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Opened them. Squinted at his watch. Something smelled good. It was 7:34. Why in God's name was he up so early? He frowned and swung his feet to the ground, pacing around the perimeter of his small room.

"Got food for you, Stark, if you want breakfast."

"I don't do breakfast, Jan, only coffee," he mumbled back. The lock clicked on the door and he winced at the sudden light streaming in from the hallway. "Well good morning, beautiful."

"Are you ready to get to work?" She asked him flatly. "This is your chance to eat, Stark. If you want it."

"No. No I'm good. Let's get to work then."

Jan prodded him down the hallway.

"What's my new workshop like?" He asked, grinning over his shoulder. Jan said nothing, just jabbed the small of his back. "Or not. You know."

As workshops go, it was obviously a step down from his least technologically advanced 'shop. It was, however, several delightful steps _up_ from what he'd used in Afghanistan. He was so kindly provided with everything he needed. Pulling the board over, he perched on a stool and examined all the parts, connections, bits, and pieces. By about 10:30 he was ready to start, but he waited until after lunch to really get started. And by get started, Tony meant organise all of the materials and tools to his liking. He could have gotten started already, he could be well on his way. But why rush himself when this was probably a very bad device anyway?

They stopped him at dinner time, and Tony was once again the dinner guest of M, Jan and a variety of other guards standing around.

"I keep eating this often and I'm going to get fat," Tony commented as they finished. "Don't want me to get fat, do you?" He grinned and leaned back in his chair.

"Nonsense, Mister Stark," M said with another thin smile. Those were getting annoying. "We merely want you healthy and up on your energy to work for us."

"Ah yes. Are you going to tell me what it does?"

"I do not think you are ready for that. Quite yet." M sipped his wine, perfectly at ease. "Did you want to get back to work after dinner?"

"Sure," Tony said with a shrug. "Dunno why not. Not like there's anything else that's keeping me busy, right?" And laughed, sipping the coke they'd given him.

It wasn't until a similar scene at dinner the next day that he realised something was wrong. He'd eaten breakfast that morning. He never at breakfast. And, more worrying, had been blasé about his coffee. That afternoon, M had smugly explained the device to him after Tony had, admittedly, bothered him about it.

"It's a device that should effectively neutralise all of the superpowered abilities of mutants," M had begun, lacing his fingers across one knee.

"So everybody becomes normal again?"

M had nodded. "Yes. Everyone becomes normal again. Equalise the world."

"Oh." Tony had merely nodded and gotten back to soldering.

Now, however, as they lead him back to the workshop, he wondered why on _earth_ he was being so agreeable. He was a damn hostage, for Pete's sake. Why was he letting them handle him like this? Tony frowned, pushing open the door, Jan behind him. The thoughts tried to skitter away as he laid eyes on the designs, but he pinched his inner arm and settled himself on his stool. Jan returned to her place by the door, arms folded and intimidating.

Moving slowly, Tony's mind whirred through the fog. He was working for them. Willingly. But it was only something to do while he waited for Steve to rescue him? But Steve didn't remember currently. And M didn't seem to bothered with Tony. He frowned. They'd done something to him. Shit. The food. They were making him more agreeable through the food. There was something in his food. They were suppressing his...inquisitiveness? His independence. Tony let loose a stream of curses. That was a dangerous thing to do.

"Something wrong, Stark?" Jan asked, taking a few steps closer.

Shit. "No, I—well. Yes." Fuck. "I messed up. I have to start over..." He turned on his stool and gave her his best innocent sheepish look. "I missed a connection back here, on the inside, in this gear mechanism, and I—"

"Don't need a run down," she interrupted. "Just get on with it."

"Alright, alright... Why don't you like me, Jan?" He watched her out of the corner of his eye, tinkering with the parts on the table. He looked up to catch her look of disbelieving disgust. "What? What!"

"You have no idea, do you?"

"I...have no idea," Tony said slowly, raising an eyebrow at her.

She snorted. "Then you're an idiot."

"I am many things, but I am not an idiot."

Jan just stared at him. Then huffed and strode away. "You're disgusting."

"Hey! I take offence to that!"

"Get back to work, ass."

Tony deconstructed all the work that he'd done so far on his project and redid a little of the work just to make it seem like he'd gotten something done. Mindless hand-work that he could lose himself in while he tried to put together all the pieces. They wanted him to build this machine. Jan hated him. M hated him? He shook his head. Maybe. Getting rid of all of the superpowereds. That was serious. That would be a problem. Would it though? Tony wouldn't change. No more Doom. No more Magneto. That was a good thing, right? Of course, but it would also mean that Steve changed back? Would Steve change? His change happened at more of a cellular level. But if Steve changed—Tony shook his head. This machine would make everyone normal again. No more Sentry. No more Wolverine. No more Wasp. No more Xavier. No more Hulk. And what about Thor? Shit. This was bad.

So the only solution... Stop eating.

Tony didn't take coffee or breakfast the next morning claiming an upset stomach. And then plead off lunch in favour of working. Insisted they bring him a plate when he refused to come with them. And flashed a charming smile that at least made Jan less grouchy about fetching it. And when she turned her back, he mushed the food around, following the wide-spread practise of picky four-year old eaters everywhere.

And it worked. For two days. Then M came to visit him in the lab mid-day.

"Why aren't you eating?"

He looked up from pretending to work and smiled. "Hm?" If he could hold out another three days, they'd know that something was wrong, without Steve having to remember.  
"You heard me."

"Busy. I get all wrapped up in stuff. And I don't quite—"

"Why. Aren't you eating?"

He gave her a pitying smile. "You really know nothing about me, do you."

"I know enough," she snapped.

Swivelling on his stool, he leaned back against the bench and looked her over. "Why do you hate me?"

Her face pinched immediately. "This is why no one likes you."

"Because I ask questions?"

"Stop it," she hissed, leaning towards him with the intent of violence.

"Whoa, whoa." He threw his hands up. "I don't know why you hate me. I mean, there must be _something_."

"My family is _dead_ because of you!"

Oh. Tony dropped his hands, eyes following them down to his lap. "Weapons?"

"Damn right it was weapons. Weapons made by _you_ ," she spat.

Giving her what he hoped was a grin and not a grimace, he nodded. "Yeah. Listen. I'm sorry. I...I've been trying to get Stark made stuff out of the wrong hands."

"Not good enough." She straightened, face once again a mask.

"I've been trying. I'm sorry. And I know that's not good enough, Jan, but I really am sorry. You see this?" He tapped his arc reactor through the t-shirt. She watched him warily. "I was hurt by my own damn weapons. And this is what keeps me alive. I stopped weapons production. It's done. Been done. And...And I'm trying to make up for it..."

"Not. Good. Enough." Then turned and stalked away.

Tony looked back down at the machinery he was working on, chest feeling tight. He was making up for it. Right?


	4. Chapter 4

When Steve woke gasping from yet another nightmare concerning Tony he rolled over and screamed into the pillow. Then looked at his clock. Only 3:47.

But he rolled out of bed anyway and headed to the bit sitting room, hating the fact that the one person he could usually count on to be there was currently on a business trip and the subject of his torturous dreams. So he went back to his room for his cell phone and called Tony's number.

_Hello beautiful. If you're listening to this, I'm obviously not available, because I'm probably doing something like saving the world or inventing something to save the world. It's what I do. But hey. When I've got the time, I'll get back to you. Probably. Now get on with it and tell me what you have to say!_ - _beep_ -

"Hey Tony... It's Steve. I just was calling..." Because I can't sleep? Because I miss you? He inhaled deeply. "I was just calling because I'm up late. Early. Whichever, and I thought you might be up." He laughed. "You usually are, and you're not here to talk to me. So I just...figured I'd call. Um. Give me a call back when you get this message. You've been pretty uncommunicative. That's not like you. Everything okay over there? Let me know. I uh...Look forward to having you back at home again." He shook his head at the stupid comment. "Uh, talk to you later. Bye." And then dropped the phone into his lap. Sighing, he curled himself up on the couch and pulled one of the throws off the couch to tug over himself while the TV flickered quietly before him. He switched it to some infomertial turned down low so he could sag back into the cushions and pretend there was life going on around him.

_Tony was shouting at him._

_"What are you saying?"_

_Tony shouted louder, banging on an invisible barrier between them. He gesticulated wildly._

_"I don't know what you're saying!" Steve just shrugged, his shield heavy on his back. "What do you need, Tony?"_

_Tony did a little turn, fingers tangling in his hair. Then he faced Steve again and stabbed a finger in his direction and made a neck cutting motion._

_"I miss you."_

_Then Tony's voice at his shoulder, "Because you're an idiot."_

_"What?" He spun and Tony was right there. Grabbing his biceps._

_"You gotta help me, Steve."_

_"I can't. I'm not in costume." He gestured down at his uniform._

_Tony rolled his eyes. "Funny, soldier. Now get your ass down to the street and help me!"_

_"But you're right here."_

_Tony growled and shoved him._

_Steve flew back into the barrier, bouncing and when he blinked, they were in a car, Tony's hands cuffed in his lap. "What's goin—"_

_"Shh!" Tony said immediately, dramatically. "We're getting kidnapped!"_

_"What?" Steve cried._

_"Yeah, buddy. It's me they want. Not you." Tony shrugged apologetically._

_"What do—" He was cut off by a dagger in his gut. Groaning as he bled red, white, and blue, Steve hunched over his wound and pleaded wordlessly to Tony. "I need—"_

_Tony chortled, gave him a kiss, and then shoved him out the door._

Steve woke with a shout, falling onto the floor, tangled in the blanket. He cursed and dug his palms into his eyes, seeing stars.

"You alright there, soldier?" Jan asked, standing over him, already dressed and holding a mug of coffee while the sun streamed weakly in through the windows.

"Jan..."

Something in his face must have put her off because she set the coffee down and offered him a hand. "Are you okay, Steve?"

"No. Yes. I'm fine. It was just..." He looked away as he got up without her help. "Just a dream. Disturbed me, I guess."

"A dream?"

"Yeah. Hey, listen. Have you heard from Tony?"

Jan smiled. "No, Steve. I've not heard from Tony."

"And that isn't...odd. To you."

She frowned. "Not really. Tony and I don't... talk the way you do."

He refrained from rolling his eyes. "That's not. I mean. Has _anyone_ heard from Tony while he's been gone?"

"Steve, do you think he's in trouble?"

"I don't know!" He threw his hands up, startling her. "I just... I've got a feeling."

Jan nibbled her lip. "Well. I mean, I guess we could look into it."

"I feel like I'm missing something I shouldn't be. Things are just..."

"Hey, Steve! Calm down. If Tony's missing, it's easy to call and see if he's really been in conference with the Japan plant. We can call Pepper. She's always talking to him."

Steve nodded, following Jan to the kitchen.

"Get some coffee, sweetie, and we'll call her up."

"You don't believe me." But he grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee.

"Steve. You slept on the sofa. You never sleep on the sofa."

"I just fell asleep there..." he protested. "Can you get Pepper on the phone?"

Rolling her eyes, Jan pulled her phone out of her purse and dialled. "Pepper! Hi, it's Jan. Yeah, nothing wrong here. Just Steve and myself. We were wondering... Have you heard from Tony recently?" She paused and gave Steve a look. Then frowned. "You haven't heard from him?"

"What do you mean she hasn't heard from him?" Steve pushed his ear close to Jan's phone. "Pepper?"

Jan rolled her eyes and sighed, putting the phone on speaker.

"—that Steve?"

"Pepper! Hi, you haven't heard from Tony?"

"No, the call-dodging bastard."

"Have you talked to the people in Japan?" Steve demanded.

Jan put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a _look_.

"Um, no. I've been a little busy, keeping up on things for him back here. Steve, do you know something?" Worry came over the line in Pepper's voice.

"I don't..." He frowned, cutting himself off. Because he didn't know how to present something when there were no facts. There was no bad guy. There were only dreams and feelings and suspicions. And any good soldier paid good attention to those, but never acted on them alone.

"Steve, if you think something's up, please tell me so I can do something about it," Pepper said, promises in her voice.

Jan murmured agreeing sounds.

"I think... I think Tony might be in trouble. I don't know why, but I think something happened. I know it sounds a little crazy, and I know it's not enough to act on, but I—"

"Steve," Pepper interrupted, amused. "I deal with Tony Stark and superheroes—sometimes mutually exclusive. Strange is part of daily work. Let me give Japan a call. He's supposed to be home in three days, but I haven't heard from him at all. And you're right; that's weird."

"Okay," he breathed in relief. "Call right back, please."

"Of course. Talk to you soon."

Then Pepper hung up, and Jan looked at him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Steve picked up the phone.

"For doubting you. That was... That was kind of silly of me. You know Tony better than any of us, and I should know better than to doubt you, Steve."

He could feel his face heat. "That's not it. I would have been sceptical if I'd come to me with as little info as that."

"But you would have looked into it."

"Maybe. I don't know."

"You know," Jan said lightly, "you're always more careful when it comes to Tony."

"I don't play favourites," he said immediately, looking at the screen of the phone.

"Of course you don't, Captain America. But _Steve_ takes extra care with Tony."

He looked up at Jan. "I don't."

She smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes, dear, you do."

"I don't mea—" But then the phone rang and Steve answered it. "Pepper?"

"Steve, the Japanese haven't even seen Tony, and they're really pissed off that they've been stood up. So I put them on hold and I have to apologise to them and ease things over and—"

"Pepper!"

"Steve, if Tony's missing, it's not by choice. He doesn't do that. He's—"

"Pepper, we'll find him," Steve assured, relieved that he now had a direction to go towards.

"Yes. Of course, Steve." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Thanks. I have to go. Apologise to the Japanese."

"Of course. Go ahead. We'll find him."

"Thanks, Steve. Jan. Let me know—when you've found anything."

Steve nodded. Then, "Of course."

Looking up at him when he hung up the phone, Jan folded her arms. "Now what?"

"Now we find Tony."

* * *

He'd amassed the Avengers and assigned everyone a task. Jan and Hank and Peter were looking through street cameras and security footage. Carol was doing aerial reconnaissance. Logan was out pounding the pavement, trying to pick up any sort of scent that was available. Clint and Natasha were doing their on reconnaissance, talking to contacts and people in places who might know where someone would take a captured superhero. But after three hours, Carol returned, tired, and said she had nothing. After six hours, Logan trudged in and shook his head to say he had nothing. Steve had hovered around Jan, Hank, and Peter until they became annoyed and made him leave. So he ordered pizza. Called in favours from everyone he could think of. Fury had heard nothing. Xavier had heard nothing. Richards heard nothing. Just when he was about to burst, reorganising the coffee table for perhaps the tenth time, he was startled by shouts from the other room.

"What? What!" He was behind Peter in seconds, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen.

"Steve," Jan said quietly. "You said you didn't see Tony off."

"I didn't."

"But you did," Hank said, looking up at him.

"No, I didn't," Steve repeated. "I missed him. I was in Central Park. I fell asleep."

"Yeah..." Peter said slowly. "That's not what the cameras say. Took us a while to find one, but this—well. Here; watch." He scooted the chair back to let Steve see, in grainy poor quality, himself walking next to Tony on the sidewalk.

"I don't... I didn't..."

"Just keep watching," Peter said. He switched views when Steve and Tony rounded the corner.

"Why don't I remember that?" His frown deepened when he and Tony stood waiting, Tony gesticulating and grinning at him. "What—oh God." He gaped at the screen as men burst out of the limo and caught them as they fell. "There! Back it up! What happened!"

Everyone squinted at the screen.

"Peter, enlarge it."

"Quality is bad, it won't give us anything better, Cap."

"Can you do anything about it?"

"Mm, probably not."

"Play it again." Steve watched carefully the third time around, jabbing his finger at the screen as both his and Tony's hands came up. "There. We were hit with something. They knocked us out with some sort of drug or paralytic." And then they were bundled into the car.

"But if Happy didn't pick Tony up. I'm sure he would miss something as important as not picking Tony up to take him to the airport," Hank said slowly.

"Unless he was drugged too." Jan met her husband's eyes and then Steve's. "You said you woke up in the park."

"Yeah."

"And you obviously have no memory of what happened."

"None."

"When did you get back? To the Tower?" Peter asked.

Steve frowned, thinking back. "I think... it was around 6:30 or so."

"And the time-stamp here says 3:12." Peter looked up at him. "So that's more than three hours unaccounted for."

"Well, obviously no one's found his body," Hank said. They all looked sharply to Hank who cringed back. "Well that's a good thing, right?"

Steve grabbed the back of Peter's chair, only thinking how _Oh God how hadn't he thought of that possibility—he didn't_ want _to think of that possibility—Jan was right—he thought of Tony as special, and he—_

"Steve? You okay?" Jan's hand was on his arm.

"Fine. God. I didn't think..."

"He'll be fine, Cap. You know Tony. Can talk his way out of a paper bag."

"Who came _up_ with that idiom," he growled. That didn't make the fear that it _could be true_ go away. It just made it worse, because he knew what a smart-ass mouth Tony had.

Peter hunched his shoulders, looking back at the screen. "I can't identify them because they're wearing masks."

"What about the car? Can we get the license plate? Jan, contact Fury. Then Natasha and Clint and see what they've found. They're not back yet, and this is something that they might know. Or be able to help with. Forget that. I'll call Tasha."

Jan nodded and picked up her cell, immediately on the line with Fury.

Steve turned away and retrieved his phone from the kitchen table, making the call to Natasha. This whole situation was strange. Steve didn't remember anything, Tony kidnapped, no body (he shuddered), no ransom note, no phone calls, no threats, no harm to any of the other Avengers.

He filled Natasha in on what was going on and relayed the information, not getting anything new from her.

"Hey Steve," Hank called.

He waved him off, finishing his call with Natasha.

"Steve, you need to get this. It's Richards."

"Got to go, Widow. Thank you for all your help." He turned to Hank, who handed him a phone. "What is it?"

"Just..." He nodded at the phone.

"Richards?"

"I... I should have said something sooner."

"What is it?"

"I had... I was blackmailed into making some blueprints for a man a while back."

"Blueprints?"

"Yes. He...threatened my children. So I made them for him."

"Reed, what were they for?" Steve paced back and forth along the back of the sofa, Hank staring at him. Jan came to lean in the doorway, worry creasing her forehead.

"They were for a machine," the man's voice dipped quieter.

"Spit it out already!"

"That would put all of the superpowereds out of commission."

"Shit."

"Steve?" Jan said.

"Tony's making it for them." Reed swore on the other end, but Steve cut him off by ending the call. "We need to find Tony _now_. Reed made plans for a machine that would take out all the superpowereds, and this man is making Tony make it for him."

Peter's face paled as he inched next to Jan who turned away and swore long and low. Logan exited the kitchen, death on his face, and Hank sat heavily on the coffee table.

"We need to find him yesterday." Then barked out orders for renewed searches, more phone calls to make, more people to direct, and more information to be gathered.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's our torture chapter. Be careful. It's not too explicit, but warning for triggers.

Tony managed another day and a half of dodging food before he dropped, passing out on top of the parts he's working with and making a huge racket.

They found him immediately, roused him, and when he refused food and water, tied him to a chair.

Excellent move for a man who's already passing out because of lack of nutrients.

"Why are you not eating?" M complained archly as he circled Tony in the chair.

"I'm not hungry," he slurred.

"Clearly, you are. The human body can only last about three days without proper hydration. Why do you refuse the good food I offer you?"

"Because it's'not good."

"I beg your pardon?"

Rolling his head back to sneer at the man, Tony forced his eyes open, his faculties taking a long time in coming back. "You heard me. You've been drugging me."

"It is only for your own good."

"It's _never_ for someone's 'own good' to drug them!" he snapped, ire rising to swiftly destroy any filters between brain and mouth. "You don't put shit in me that I don't want? Clear?"

"Will you finish your work?"

"Screw you."

M's face finally showed disappointment and displeasure in the creases around his eyes. "This is why we drugged you."

"Oh yeah," Tony drawled, rolling his eyes. "Great one. Kidnap the genius and make him do your dirty work. That's a new story."

"You would be wise to watch your mouth, Mister Stark."

"Yeah? Of course I would. Too bad I've never really had that kind of wisdom. Gotten me in trouble in the past, for sure." He grinned up at M, slouching as well as he could in the bonds. "So now what? Looks like you've lost your compliant slave."

M just smiled sadly. "It is a sad thing, Mister Stark. I would rather not have to resolve to threats. They are so tedious. Needing to follow through and all. Rather too much effort."

"Fuck you and your lazy ass." The hand moved faster than he could currently track, so Tony's head snapped back and he grunted with the force of it. "Fine. Fine we can play that way."

"Are you sure, Mister Stark? You are, after all, weak with not eating." M nodded and Jan came out of the shadows of the small room. Probably the same one he'd been taken to originally when it had been him and Steve.

"Jan. Hey baby." And then grunted as she back-handed him. "Aw man... Why does it have to be this way?"

Jan grinned ferally and smacked him again.

Tony inhaled and kept his teeth together for the next blow.

"Will you build for me?"

He snorted. "This isn't my first round with crazy people who beat me to get me to do something for them."

"Such a way with words..." M tsked sadly, then nodded to Jan.

"I know, right? I should write a book." He braced himself when Jan's fist connected with his jaw and made him see stars. "Don't want to ruin my good looks. I'll need a good promo pic to paste on the back cover."

"You're an _ass_ , Stark," Jan sneered in his face.

"It is a good one, isn't it?" he said faintly.

"You're a selfish, entitled, arrogant, over-bearing fuck-up, Stark." And punched him in the gut.

"Oh fuck, I hate it when they go for the gut. It just messes up so much..." he moaned, bending over himself as far as he was able. He prayed Steve remembered soon. He was supposed to be coming home today. Tomorrow? Yesterday? "Why do you hate me? I never did anything to y—"

" _Wrong_."

"Not asking you," he gasped around the pain. "Fuck, shit is that a taser? I really hate tasers. No, seriously, can we do without the taser?" Tony pressed himself back against the slats of the chair.

M stepped closer and Jan stepped back. "Tony Stark. I am going to tell you a story."

"Ooh, story time," Tony mocked a little deliriously.

"Yes, Mister Stark. Once upon a time there was a man who worked an ordinary job running a defense contracting company."

"Sensing parallelism..."

M arched a brow at him and then continued. "This man went home every day to his wife and two daughters, ages six and eleven. The younger liked baseball and the clarinet, and the elder liked cooking and math."

Tony swallowed, focusing blearily on M, unease seeping in through the cold of the concrete floor. "And?" he croaked.

M smiled. It was anything but kind. "And then, this man's company was hijacked so that some petty superpowered thugs could get what they wanted, kidnapping this man's family. When they didn't get what they wanted, the degenerates managed to blow up the man's family. And with the loss of his family, the loss of his company followed. So soon, this man had nothing left. So as you might see, this man may have developed a certain proclivity against superpowered beings. "

"Some of us help."

"Us?" The man raised both brows in a farce of incredulity. "Oh you consider yourself a part of the superpowered community?"

"You do know that I'm Iron Man..." Tony can't bring himself to meet his gaze any more and dropped his eyes to his knees.

The man chuckled an unamused laugh. "Yes. Yes of course you do. You rub elbows with them, but you are not a _part_ of them. You are a brilliant mind who constructed a fantastic toy with which you play at superhero."

He winced.

"Even you know it to be true. But," M leaned in and hissed, "it does not make you better."

"I try," Tony rasped. "Fuck you." And jerked as a hand connected with his face again.

"You will finish this for me," the man said, voice like iron. "Because if you don't, then you will—"

"Don't you dare threaten me," Tony grit out. "I don't respond well to threats. I thought we covered that."

"And I thought I had ensured your geniality. Yet here you are cursing me. Cursing me for suffering loss?"

"No. For lowering yourself to be just like them."

With the first arguably real roar of emotion, the man began beating Tony in earnest, punching and slapping until the chair Tony was in fell over. And then he kicked him.

In between grunts, Tony got out, "How's...it feel...to be...the bad...guy?" Eventually, M grabbed his hair and pulled him upright by it, Tony crying out as follicles ripped loose.

"You know _nothing_. _NOTHING_." M gripped his face, snarling close.

"Fuck your nothing," Tony said lowly. "You don't know my life. I won't help you. You're wrong, and you're taking the coward's way out. Trust me. I know it well enough to recognise it when I see it. Why do you think I don't drink the wine you offer me? You can't even give me a name, _M_. So don't talk to me about knowing nothing!"

M backed off and sneered at him with one final backhand. "If he's no use to us, then do as you will. You see, Tony Stark, all of these people...?" He spread his arms. "All of these people are people on whom your life has had adverse effect."

"W-what...?"

M tutted. "Don't act dim now, Mister Stark. All of these people. Hurt. Injured. Damaged. All thanks to your weapons. Your way of life. Your...indiscretions. Your _irresponsibility_."

He flinched at the words and bit his lip. "We can't all be perfect," he said hoarsely. "We can't all..." Shook his head. "Never mind. You're not going to listen to me anyway."

"Because you're not worth listening to."

"Fine!" He raised his head and forced a grin over his lips. "Good luck finishing on your own. Reed's a tricky bastard anyway. You'll never read his plans yourself."

M arched a brow. "I suppose if you won't help me, I'll have to do my best. It won't nearly matter anymore. Not to you, anyway, Mister Stark. Because if we can't be civil, well. Then we can be violent. And all of these people here would _love_ a hand at making you feel some of the pain they've been carting around for _years_."

Sucking in air, Tony straightened his spine and sat back in the chair. "Fine then," he said with a calm that was probably coming from shock and resignation. "They deserve it." Shrugged. "Who am I to deny vice and gratification. I can hardly fault others if they do..."

"Then enjoy your torture, Tony Stark. Perhaps you'll wish that you hadn't been so stubborn about a measly drug in your system."

"I've moved past the age where I need drugs to have fun," he said flatly.

M smiled tightly and opened the door to the small room. Jan stepped in front of Tony, blocking further view of the man.

"How can I blame you," Tony said tiredly. "What happened."

"You don't deserve to know." And then Jan took her time with a riding crop. Prowling around like a vengeful cat, taking swipes and drawing blood.

Next was Greg. Greg liked water. Greg liked Tony's head under water. Greg missed his sister a lot. So he tested Tony's lung capacity.

Sarah came in and sat, staring at him unerringly for twenty minutes, listing good qualities about her sister, and all the good she was doing for the world as an aide worker. She wasn't finished when Edward came in and told her to get up and leave. She left. Because good old Ed pulled out the taser.

"Fuck..." Tony groaned.

Ed smiled.

Ed left when Tony couldn't speak any more.

When Johnny left, Tony couldn't cry any more. Johnny had so much pain.

M shuffled into the room with a yawn when Johnny left. "Would you care to help me again? I'll stop them."

Tony keened, sagging forward in the chair. It wasn't going to last much longer. He wasn't either.

"Sorry, can't hear you, Mister Stark."

He choked and tried to raise his head.

"No? You do not care to help?" M shrugged. "Very well. Your choice. And do remember, Mister Stark. I _did_ give you a choice." Then grinned like a mad dog and left.

Daisy. Daisy liked to smoke. For all of his addictions, Tony Stark did _not_ like smokers. But Daisy, young and voice rough, hair shorn short and sharp, _liked_ smoking. And as she told the story of her father dying much younger than he should have, she slowly pressed her cigarette to Tony's skin. Sometimes, she pressed it to places he was still clothed and then watched it burn through to his skin. She stood when she was finished, gave him a mocking salute and grin and passed through the door.

Natsu brought a whip. He also brought repressed feelings and a propensity for violence. Tony only had the pleasure of his company for a short time because then he passed out.

He whimpered when he woke, muscles immediately cramping up and spasming, making him gasp for air that was driven away by pain. _Not my fault, not my fault_ ran the mantra in his head. Except that it _was_ his fault, and he was to blame for the pain these people felt. Not his fault for their improper expression of that pain.

At some point someone must have untied him from the chair, because he was dumped on the cold concrete in a twisted heap. Fighting vertigo, he rolled over, vomiting the nothing that was in his stomach. He rolled back the other way to avoid the smell, stretching out so as much skin as possible touched the cold, regardless of how it made him shiver. Maybe if he was numb enough, he wouldn't feel the bruises, burns, and welts. Steve... Get here soon, he thought as he drifted out of touch with the world again.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve didn't sleep.

Whatever there was to be done, he was doing it. And if Jan thought he missed the pitying looks she gave him when she pressed a fresh mug of coffee into his hand, well. Maybe Tony got preferential treatment from _Steve_ , but to Captain America, Tony was a valuable team member who was currently constricted into building a machine that would mean the end of them all. Figuratively and symbolically speaking.

The car belonged to a David Long. Who had reported it stolen. The men in the video were untraceable, even Logan unable to help what with all the time that passed. However, their search had widened, or was it narrowed, to include places where one might have the space to build a machine like Tony had been asked. Questioning Reed, it needed a strong power source, but it didn't need to be a very big machine. And Tony would probably find a way to streamline it, if the arc reactor and armour were any indicators to go by. So the space didn't need to be very large.

So Steve had people check by all major New York power plants and facilities for suspicions of power syphoning. Within the hour, he was told that none of them reported decreased power levels.

"Peter, double check their systems."

Peter looked at him sharply. "Sorry what?"

" _Double. Check_. I want to be sure they're not lying. There's a possibility that some of the service workers could have been bribed to lie to us. Or aren't smart enough to know their systems are being hacked."

Peter sighed and turned right back around to head into the den where he'd been cooped up. "Sure, sure."

"Peter..."

Peter paused in the doorway and looked at Steve. "Yeah, Cap?"

"Sorry. I'm pushing you. And...thank you. For all of your help."

Shrugging a shoulder, Peter gave him a lop-sided grin. "It's Tony."

He laughed, short and low. "Yeah. It's Tony. I do play favourites, don't I?"

"Well, can't have Mom without Dad."

He rolled his eyes. "Go hack their systems."

"Get Reed to help. We'll double-team their systems."

"Good idea." He got Jan to call and then nibbled on his thumb, pacing for the next forty-seven minutes while they worked.

"Oh. _Oh_. Steve! STEVE! We got it!" Peter shouted, jumping up from his chair and flipping about a bit.

"Where?" Steve demanded breathlessly.

"Here!" Peter pointed at the map on the screen. "North city."

"Jan!" Steve shouted over his shoulder. "The jet! Let's go!" They were there in record time, but with no easy place to land, Steve growled, grabbed Peter's shoulder and said, "You're with me. Find something to swing from and we're going in!"

"Cap, they're underground," Carol said from the cockpit. "That's what the sensors read."

Steve pushed the door open then pushed Peter out and jumped.

"You can't warn a guy when you're giving him the long walk off a short pier?" Peter yelped, but his web caught the Quinjet and his arm was around Steve's waist, so they were good.

"Get me to the ground. That building!" Steve pointed him towards a small flat building next to the water.

"Geeze, you're heavier than you look!" Peter groaned, but he swung and flung Cap with a line on him towards the building.

Steve landed and threw only a brief glance back at the jet landing nimbly, thank you Tony, on top of a squat parking garage.

"Steve," Jan's voice said over his comm. "You're not going in alone, right?"

He waffled over lying, but then said, "Yes. Just follow me, carefully, as quick as you can." And unslung the shield from his back.

"Steve...! Steve, that's a bad idea!" Jan said, other voices echoing the sentiment around her.

"Don't care," he muttered, loping down the sidewalk to the corner. No one guarded the door. Nor were there any security cameras. So Steve pushed the (unlocked) door open and crept down the darkened hall. "This might not be the right building. There doesn't seem to be anyone he—well. Spoke too soon." Steve paused at the juncture of a hallway. "This is it," he murmured lowly.

"Steve. Steve, please be careful. We're following you in."

"Great. Set perimeter. Make sure no one gets out." He leaned around the corner and flung his shield. The men fell like dominoes, and he was running towards them snagging his shield out of the air. Slamming one who tried to rise on the head, Steve loped past them, raising to guard against the spatter of bullets that was aimed at him.

"Steve!"

"Fine! Just get in here!" He stopped at the mouth of a new hallway, ten or so people staring at his sudden appearance. There was suddenly a lot of shouting as Steve flung his shield, growling under his breath. He pinned the last one to a wall. "Where's Tony."

The woman sneered. "We were wondering when you were going to show up."

He shook her. "Where is he."

"I'm not telling."

"I will hurt you."

"Oh, you mean your sensitive sensibilities aren't offended? _Captain America_."

He hesitated maybe a second and then punched her in the gut. "Tell. Me."

"You won't find him here..." she wheezed on his arm.

"What do you mean?"

She grinned and then sagged in his hold.

Steve swore, dropped her and took off as he heard the sound of feet coming up behind him.

"Steve!" several voices chorused behind him.

"Spread out! Find Tony!" he barked as he took off down a hall. Peter swung overhead.

"I got your back! Head—I'm with you!"

"Thanks, Spider-Man." And pounded down the hallway, until he rounded the corner and came face to face with a man in a light grey suit. They both froze, the man throwing up an arm in a gesture of defense. "You..." Steve frowned at him, mind churning. "I know you." The man looked surprised and then darted back down the hall, Steve easily catching him and pinning him face-first against the wall. "Where is Tony Stark?"

The man almost sobbed a laugh.

"Where is he?"

"Hey, uh, Cap...?"

"Keep searching, Spider-Man. Let me know if you find him."

"You won't," the man gasped. Peter paused, dropping to the ground, hovering at Steve's shoulder.

"Where is he?" He gouged a thumb into the man's lower back, memories floating around his mind, images, this man.

"Ah-ah..!" He arched into the wall."

He'd seen him before. When he and Tony... He and Tony had been kidnapped. This was the man who had taken them. "I know you have Tony."

"He is useless," the man spat.

Somewhere relief made itself known, that Tony hadn't built the machine. Or finished it. That it couldn't be a threat. Steve grit his teeth and asked the question to which he didn't really want to know the answer. "Is he alive still?"  
"Perhaps."

" _Tell_ me." He slammed the man against the wall.

He only laughed, voice tinged with hysteria.

Steve leaned close and whispered in the man's ear, "I will kill you."

His laughter abated into gasping breaths. "Oh.. It doesn't matter... My life. It is over anyway. What have I left to live for?"

"Pe—Spider-Man, bind him up and we're going on."

Peter nodded and then they were off again, Peter going one way, Steve pounding down the other hallway, freezing a mousy blonde woman. "Where is Tony Stark?"

The woman snorted in his grasp and tossed her head.

"I _asked_ you a question," he snarled. "And I'm not above asking a different way to get my people back."

"You superhumans..." she sneered. "This you can get whatever you want by threatening."

"Is _that_ what this is about? One-upping the superpowereds?" Steve stared at her until she dropped her eyes. "Because we're usually here to help you. And Iron Man is a part of the Avengers. Who _help_ people."

The woman sighed, scowling over Steve's shoulder.

"Where is he?"

"He's not here," she muttered.

"So I've been hearing. _Where. Is. Tony Stark_."

"Are you sure you want him back?"

"Stop wasting my time!" He shook her a little.

"They took him out the back and are headed towards the coast."

"Damn it." Clicked his comm. "Who's in the Quinjet? Head towards the coast!" Looked back at her. "What does the vehicle look like?"

"It's a silver van that says 'Mallorey Lighting' on the side."

"Hear that?"

"Roger, bub."

"Wolverine. Great. I'm headed to the roof, pick me up. Anyone else who can get there, get there! Or else you're finding your own way!" The woman sagged when he let go of her. "You think you're the only one who's lost someone because of superpowereds?"

Looking at him sharply, she wobbled a bit and shook her head. "My family..."

"Mine too," Steve said harshly and then ran for the roof.

More than half of the group congregated on the roof, waiting for Logan. Those still below opted to stay below. And finish up business. Logan got out when he landed and handed the jet over to Carol to fly so he could participate in the...finishing up of business.

"Silver—"

"Van with 'Mallorey Lighting' on the side. Got it," Carol said, sending the jet into the sky and shooting towards the coast. Jan ran visuals, everyone on high alert, Steve himself tense and not thinking favourably about the state in which they'd find Tony. If those—"Carol! There! Left side! Tiny road!"

"I see it!" The jet veered sharply sending everyone scrambling for hand-holds.

"Get close enough that I can drop down," Steve said lowly next to her head.

She looked up at him. "Want me to just park the jet in front of him on the road?"

He blinked at her. "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, do that." And then when they landed, Steve jumped out, shield at ready, vaguely wondering how bad the damage would be if he were to be run over. Because Steve Rogers was. Not. Moving.

Which was lucky because the van skid to a halt, swerving slightly around Steve, only to be faced with the rest of the Avengers present. He strode to the driver's side and pulled the door open. "Get out."

The man driving looked at his partner and then flinched when Steve repeated his request. Then he got out of the van. Clint pulled his partner out the other side.

"Go lie on the ground, your hands on the back of your head," Steve said as he strode around to the back of the van. "Hawkeye, if they don't do it, you have my permission to be forceful."

"Awesome."

He heard the men hit the street and raised unsteady hands to the handles on the van, hesitating only half a second before he threw them open. Every minute was—

"Oh."

Tony.

"Oh _God_..."

He.

" _Tony_."

What...

He backed up. Short of breath. Sagging slightly despite hands gripping the open doors. Stared at pavement.

"Cap?"

Jan's voice.

"Cap, is Tony ba— _oh God_."

Her feet in his peripheral turned away quickly.

"Help! _Now_!"

Feet pounding. Clint's creative cursing. Steve stepped forward. Time slowed down. Pulse. There. Weak. Fingers scraping on dried blood.

"Ste—Cap. We need to get him to a hospital. _Now_ ," Jan pleaded, grabbing at his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, sounding a thousand miles away.

"Now. Can you pick him up? Should we pick him up? I don't—"

"I'll lift him." The van dipped as he half climbed inside to scoop Tony into his arms. Tony who didn't move, face didn't even shift as Steve cradled him to his chest. Oh God. He was cold. Tony was cold. "That's a bad sign."

"What? What's a bad sign?" Luke asked, joining them. "Oh fuck."

"He's cold."

"Let's go, Cap. Come on. We have to go."

"I'll stay here and get these two to the cops," Clint said, backing away with a jerked thumb.

Glaring at them until they flinched, Steve trotted to the jet, trying to keep Tony from being jostled. He somehow didn't think they would arrive there in the condition that they were now.

"I'll give him some help," Luke said, folding his arms. "You don't need me at the hospital."

For all that the trip to the hospital was short, Steve could hardly blink as he stared at Tony. Bruises. Cuts. Burns. Welts. His eyes looked like sunken pits. And as the memories finally slotted into place, it was such a difference from the well put-together Tony he had last seen. His shirt must have been given up as a lost cause because it was gone. His feet were bare. Slashed. Bruised. Nicked. Burned. Broken.

He took a deep breath that did nothing to steady himself.

Tony's pants were not in much better, the nice belt he'd been wearing gone. The fine linen was riddled with small round burn holes, echoed by the actual marks on his skin beneath. His torso was marked with stripes from a whip or something like that while his arms looked like a tally board. Tony's entire face bore evidence of the punch to the nose and split lip and bitten tongue, his beard and the top half of his chest a ruddy colour. His hair. Plastered to his head. Blood. Sweat. Grease making it limp and awful looking.

"Steve," Carol said gently. "We're here."

The back of the jet opened throwing natural light on Tony washing him out even more. He stood, keeping the man close to his chest as he hurried passed the emergency workers to the ER where he set Tony on a bed and then was herded out of the way while people worked.


	7. Chapter 7

When he first woke, everything ached. So he passed out again.

The second time he woke, he heard voices whispering softly, the same way his parents had when he was home from school and they were worried about his bad habits. So he passed out again.

The third time he woke, there was a warm hand covering his that tightened when his twitched and called his name low and eager. So he groaned and opened his eyes to squint against the light and then flutter his lids to try to see and not be blinded.

"Tony... Tony, thank God you're awake," Steve said quietly.

"Steve..." he croaked. "You remembered..."

"Yeah." Steve dropped his eyes. "Yeah, eventually. I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry he had you so long. I—"

He waved his free hand (attached to an IV) and coughed. "No. No, it's fine... Not your fault. Drugged..."

"Shh... You're safe now."

Tony hoped his expression conveyed his disdain for that comment.

Steve chuckled unsteadily. "Right. Of course. You know that. I'm here. Um... how are you?"

"I..." He closed his mouth to give his brain a minute to catch up. He was floating on morphine, so it was kind of hard to think, let alone sort through the emotions of having been tortured rather extensively and creatively. So he tried again. "I—"

"Mr. Rogers, we need to—oh! You're awake!" the nurse said. He leaned back into the hall and said something that Tony didn't pay attention to, his nerve endings too aware of Steve's hand on his, thumb stroking over his knuckles. Steve probably wasn't aware he was doing it, looking up at the nurse who came all the way in, another person in scrubs following him in.

"Mr. Stark."

Tony shuddered. "Tony. Please."

"Sorry?"

"Call me Tony."

"Of course, Tony. How are you feeling?" the doctor echoed Steve's question, stepping close to pick up his chart and read the numbers of the various machines to which Tony was attached.

"Not now. Go away," he mumbled.

"Mr St—Tony. We nee—"

"I'm fine with the morphine, Steve is here. I'm awake. I don't feel like I have a concussion—had one before. This is just violence and injury for injury's sake. Now go away and leave me alone."

"Tony..." Steve said gently.

He'd just woken up and he couldn't deal with this right now. "I don't need anything!" he rasped.

The doctor sighed. "You seem stable. For now. We'll need to take a closer look at some of your injuries."

"Tomorrow," Tony ordered with a glare.

"Tony, you should let the—"

"Steve," he choked out. "Tomorrow."

Steve looked up at the doctor and nodded, sighing as he gave Tony's hand a squeeze. After a few moments of quiet questions that Steve answered while Tony rested his eyes, the doctor was gone and it was just Steve in Tony in the room.

"Not for long."

"What?" Tony slurred.

"I said it won't be us for long."

"Oh. Did I say that out loud?" That was...not so good.

Steve just smiled.

"Oh. I suppose everyone's coming then..."

"Yes. They were alerted when you woke."

"Alerted... Like an update."

"Tony... _are_ you okay?"

"I'm...okay. For now. For now," he sighed. Lolling his head in Steve's direction, he lifted his free hand and pressed it over Steve's.

"Oh. Oh alright."

Tony stared at him a moment, the silence stretching along the beeps of the medical equipment. "Thank...thank you." And met Steve's eyes.

He only met his gaze for a short while before dropping it and muttered, "For what?"

"Steve..." Tony pressed his hand tighter. "For..." Swallowed around the lump in his throat.

" _Oh_. Tony, it's fine," Steve said, leaning in closer.

Opening his mouth to finish while he thought he could, Tony jerked as the door opened with an exclamation of his name. He pressed his head into the pillow, turned away, so he could catch his breath. Let his arm shift subtly, so it looked like it rested across his abdomen instead of pressing on top of Steve's hand.

"Shit, sorry! Is he awake?" Carol said, lowering her voice.

"I'm awake." And then turned his press smile on the lot of them.

After ten minutes of Tony fielding questions, Steve stood and herded them back out and turned the far light off in the room. By the time he'd seated himself on the chair next to his bed, Tony's chest felt tight. The hospital gown, loose across his skin felt heavy and too much. "Steve..."

"What do you need?"

"I want this off," he whispered, closing his eyes. "The hospital gown. No. You know what. Scratch that. Get me home. I can't take this beeping, the smell, the lights... I don't even want to try the food. It'll be terrible. That's how hospital food _always_ is, and I can't take it."

"But what abo—"

"Please..." He was suffocating under these fluorescents and all he wanted was the comfort of his own bed, no matter how much pleading it took. He forced deep inhalation. "I need my own...my own stuff, Steve. My own bed. My own pyjamas. I'll stay in bed all day if I need to, I just can't be...here." His mouth was overflowing with words that he didn't mean to say, and his voice was telling Steve everything he needed to know about how _not_ fine he was. Tony flopped a hand over his face.

"Do you want me to turn the lights off all the way?" Steve. Worried. Unsure.

"No! Just get me the hell out of here!" he snapped, turning away and coughing. "Do what you have to. Lie. Throw money at them. I don't care. I'll buy the whole wing of the hospital!"

"Tony! Tony, relax. You're getting yourself all worked up. Besides. You already _did_ buy the whole wing of the hospital _last_ time you were here."

Tony paused and looked at Steve. Forehead wrinkled with worry. Lips trying to smile but couldn't. Frowning. "Don't look so worried. I'm fine. I'll live."

Steve dropped his eyes. "You didn't look like it when we found you."

"I..."

"You looked awful. Torn up. Bruised. Thin. Bloody. I didn't think... You didn't look alive, Tony."

He flinched. "Not my first time dealing with being a captive. Know my way around these things now."

"Tony!" Grip tightening on Tony's hand, Steve's blues flashed at him angrily. "We almost _lost_ you! They were going to dump you in the ocean! Don't crack jokes about it!"

"I have to!" Tony snapped. "If I don't crack jokes about it, I'll—" He forced his mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth, pulling his hand away from Steve to grip his other arm tight. Tried to stop the shaking and vertigo floating around the edges of his consciousness. "I can't..." _Damn it_!

"Alright. Alright. We'll go."

"And don't treat me like an invalid either!" he snapped, voice breaking. When he looked at Steve again, he was, thankfully, amused, not pitying.

"I'll call Happy."

"Great."

* * *

Tony didn't sleep that night. He spent more time than he would ever admit _ever_ huddled up against his headboard, blankets pulled around him. He wouldn't admit either that his chest froze even as he scrambled for a normal sleeping position as the doorknob turned. But when he cracked an eyelid, it was only Steve.

"Hey Tony..." the man said gently, smiling. "Can I come in?"

"Uh..." Then cleared his throat. "Morning. Yeah." And patted the sheets.

Steve stared him over a minute before coming and clicking the door shut behind him.

"Uh, leave the door open, actually."

Blinking, Steve did as asked and then perched cautiously on the edge of Tony's bed. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No."

A smile flickered over Steve's lips. "Should have come to see me. I was up."

Tony just nodded and pushed himself to a sitting position, scratching at the IV in the back of his hand.

"Stop that," Steve said gently.

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Can you talk yet?"

Sighing, Tony looked at the ceiling rather than the earnest _caring_ on Steve's face. "I don't want to talk," he said gruffly.

"Okay."

After a couple minutes of muted silence, he qualified, "About that."

"Sure."

"You were up late?"

Steve nodded. "Most of the night."

"Idiot."

Steve snorted, quickly stifling the laugh.

"Don't."

"Huh?"

"Don't not laugh 'cause shit happened." He looked up to meet Steve's wide eyes. Tony rolled his. "I _told_ you; don't treat me like I'm fragile."

"Then get out of bed, soldier!"

Tony rolled his eyes and stretched, wincing as it tugged on the welts and cuts.

"Though you should probably stay put and rest up," Steve smiled at him.

Tony nodded absently, hands itching for something to work on. "They were making me build a machine," he mused, frowning at the ceiling.

"The one that Reed came up with."

Flicking a glance at him, Tony nodded. "Yeah. You remember everything now?"

"We found out about the machine from Reed. But yes. I remember everything now."

Tony nodded.

"You shouldn't have sent me away."

"It was my best choice."

"Your best choice? Because I distinctly remember being there also, hence a part of the scenario."

"Yeah, but if you'd stayed, they'd have killed you. Because they didn't need you," Tony said harshly. "They needed me. And if you were just a civilian, then they would let you go. Which they did."

"Tony Stark. Always making decisions for other people," Steve snorted.

Tony gaped at him with faux injury. "Steve Rogers. Getting snarky with _me_?"

Laughing, Steve leaned closer and shifted more of his weight on the bed.

The laughter did him good. The open door, his best friend close, and no infernal beeping of a hospital. Better. Everything was better.

"Tony?"

He'd closed his eyes at some point. "What?" he asked breathlessly.

"You tired?"

"Exhausted."

"You should sleep."

"I can't."

Steve hummed a little bit. "Me either."

Snorting, Tony snugged the blankets tighter around his shoulders.

"What if I sleep with you?"

"What?" His eyes snapped to Steve's face. Steve who was carefully looking at Tony's chin instead of meeting his eyes. But he scooted back to give Steve more room on the bed, squinting at him. "You trying to sleep with me in my vulnerable state, Rogers?"

The other immediately flushed. "No! I just thought—oh God. That came out wrong. I—"

He laughed softly, wincing as it jarred bruises on his ribs, shoulders, and abdomen. It felt good. "Lie with me, Cap." And eased himself onto his side, the most comfortable place to lie.

Steve coughed a little and rolled down onto his side so he was at Tony's back.

"No. Sorry. Can't. Other side, Steve. I can't have you at my back." He suppressed a whine as he scooted himself across the sheets to where Steve had been laying to give him enough room now to lie facing him.

"Better."

He gave it a minute, closed his eyes to avoid Steve's worried blues and then huffed. "No. Back's wide open. Fuck, this is ridiculous."

"No, no it's not. It's fine. Here. Put your back to the headboard. Your bed is big enough that you can lie the other way. And you've taken the top sheet and duvet off anyway. And I'll lie facing you. Or away from you. Whichever way you want."

"You can face me," Tony mumbled as he shifted. When they were finally all settled, Tony allowed Steve to share one of his blankets with him and they were scooted close enough that it was a little uncomfortable to have Steve staring at him like that. "Go to sleep."

Steve grinned. "Better?"

"Better."

"Good. Hey Tony..."

"What's up Steve?" He didn't open his eyes.

"You can... you can talk to me. If you want. I'm not a psychiatrist or whatever, and I know you hate those. But if you want to talk... I'll listen."

"I know you will, Steve," he said quietly. This was fine. Fine. Solid wall at his back, Steve guarding his front. This was okay. Maybe... Maybe he could sleep...


	8. Chapter 8

Tony was out in minutes of them finally settling down, and Steve shivered happily at the warmth that swept through him that he was 'safe' enough for Tony to fall asleep. He was surprised that Tony had agreed to his idea. And now that Tony was safe, now that Steve could _see_ him, Steve fell asleep shortly after satisfying himself.

He didn't wake until it was dark out and he heard feet paused outside the doorway. Blinking at Tony, he rolled out of the bed when the man was still asleep and pulled the door all the way open before the person could knock.

"Steve!" Jan's hand was raised and her eyebrows flew up comically.

"Tony's sleeping."

"Uh. I figured." Her lips curved up in an amused smile. "Were you hungry? Is he going to eat anything. I'm sure his IV bag needs to be swapped out."

"Jan. We're—well I'm a little hungry. Tony's sleeping though. And I want him to keep sleeping. I—"

"Relax, honey. Hank can switch the bag, and I'll bring some food up." She paused and then she grinned. "So..."

"Don't start!" he warned.

"Oh Steve..." she huffed. "I've only seen it for months..."

"Months!"

Patting his arm, she smiled. "It's okay. Men are dense. I know. Now I'll leave you two." Another hesitation. "He doing okay?"

"Um. Well enough, I guess. I'm keeping an eye on him."

"I know you are. I'll be back." She turned and wandered down the hall.

Steve shuffled back to the bed and stretched himself out next to Tony, watching his face. Watching his face twitch a little as he slept. Peacefully, Steve hoped. He propped his head up on an elbow, waiting, watching while Hank came in and swapped out Tony's IV bag.

"Morning," Tony mumbled as Steve shifted the blankets. Hank glanced at him and then

"Hey, Tony," Steve breathed. He waited while blue eyes cracked open at him, fluttering a bit, soft with sleep. Not quite awake. Lips twitching into a smile while his eyes closed again in a yawn that pulled his whole face in. Steve almost chuckled.

Tony shifted under the blankets, tossing them off. "Hot..." he complained, then scowled at the IV still in the back of his hand. "Can I take this out now?"

"Leave it in, for now. You were pretty dehydrated," Steve said, intercepting the hand that went to scratch.

Tony groaned, flopped on his back and then immediately hissed and rolled to his side. "Fuck, that's unpleasant."

"How about a bath?" Steve asked.

"A bath, Steve? I shower. I only take baths if I'm planning on seducing someone to my bed afterwards. And I'm pretty sure I'm not doing that any time."

"Oh. Shower then." Steve shrugged. "After breakfast."

Tony's brow arched, amused. "Do you have the rest of my schedule for me, Mr. Rogers, my friendly neighbour?"

"Huh?"

Snorting, Tony shook his head and sat slowly as if assessing the situation and then threw his legs over the side of the bed. "After your time. Or. In between. Whatever. Confusing." He grabbed the IV stand and shuffled towards the bathroom. "I'm fine," he said when Steve got up.

"I can see that. Do you need anything?"

Tony paused in the doorway, back to Steve. "Uh..." His shoulders tensed as Steve stepped closer.

"Sorry." His heart clenched as Tony flicked him an annoyed guilty glance.

"This is... Jesus. This is so stupid."

"Taking a shower?" Steve asked, trying for levity. Tony's pride was a careful thing.

"Being afraid."

"Oh Tony, no." Steve ducked in front of him, his heart swelling, knowing how much it hurt to admit fear. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid." He ran his hands over Tony's arms, still encased in a sheet and satin pyjamas under that.

"Don't give me the speeches, Cap," Tony replied bitterly, staring at his feet. "This is me. I thought..." He groaned. "I really don't want to go into it..."

"So don't. You don't need to talk about it yet," Steve said, hands stilling on Tony's arms.

"I can't..." Tony threw his hands off and balled the sheet up to toss onto the bed. " _Fuck_! I thought I was done with this shit!" He flinched as there was a knock on the door.

Steve took a steadying breath. Tony had been about to talk and now he was looking furtively between the door and the bathroom.

"Just me, boys. Brought breakfast!" Jan poked her head in. "Hungry?"

"Thanks, Jan. Just set it down please."

She nodded and put the tray down on the sidebar and hovered by the door. "Tony, honey, you doing okay?"

"Jan, that better be the first and last time that you're going to ask that question. Thanks for breakfast," he added when Steve threw him a look. "I'm just gonna shower. Be out later."

She smiled "Oh, don't worry about it. We got everything covered." And then with a wave, she was gone.

"Steve. The door. Open the door."

He hurried to the door and cracked it before heading back over to Tony, touching his shoulder and trying not to be offended when he flinched again.

Gritting his teeth, Tony grabbed his hand and placed it on his own shoulder. "This is ridiculous. I refuse to go around _flinching_ every time I'm touched." He grabbed Steve's other hand and placed it flat over his arc reactor, staring through Steve's chest and keeping his breath even.

Steve's heart ached. Tony's chest was warm, shoulder solid, if thin, beneath Steve's other hand. Waiting until the other man's breath evened out, Steve slid his arms around Tony and pulled him close to his chest.

"Wha—Steve? Wait, Steve. What..."

"Is this okay?" Tony was tense, but not pushing him away. He was probably pushing the limits... He bit his lip. Tony had just said he was not so okay with touching. Even Steve. And now—he grunted as Tony's arms came up around his back, gripping his shirt. "Oh. Okay." And then Tony sagged against him.

"Okay. I'm okay with this. This is fine..." And stayed there for a minute before dropping his arms and wriggling out of Steve's. "And that's good for now. 'Kay, I'm going to shower. You..." Tony looked at him, bit his lip and squinted half a second. "Can you just. Um. Stay by the door. The open door. We can talk. Or something."

Steve smiled. "Sure. That's fine." The tightness in his chest didn't go away while he and Tony fell into a stilted facsimile of their prior patterns of teasing mindless chatter, but he sat across the doorway and hoped he was a comfort all the same. Tony finished shortly in the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist and one draped around his shoulders when he came into sight. More scars for the man to be ashamed of. Tony had just recently stopped being shy about the arc reactor around Steve when they'd changed before or after sparring or for emergency showers from chemicals or something like that that happened more frequently than it should. He fetched Tony a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and waited outside while he changed and then joined him on the bed to make him eat something. It was a small fight, but when he sat back against the headboard watching Tony eat, he could feel nothing but satisfaction. He scooted down until he was lying flat on the bed, happy with everything. Happy with Tony eating. Happy Tony was safe again and home. Happy he trusted Steve. Happy Steve was with him. He dropped a slice of orange in his mouth from the tray Jan brought and then poked Tony in the cheek with another.

"Wha—Steve! What are you—five?" But Tony's lips quirked in a smile.

Happy Tony was smiling. He poked Tony's lips with it next, pushing it in when Tony opened his mouth to protest. Then laughed when he grumbled around it, but chewed and swallowed.

"Hey Steve..." Tony said, looking down at his lap, fingers twitching like he wanted to be tinkering instead. "Do you...like me?"

He sat up. How on earth had he misconstrued his feelings so badly— "Tony! Of co—"

Tony interrupted him with a waved hand. "No. We're friends. Of course you like me. Enough. No. I mean... Steve." He looked up and met Steve's gaze. "Do you want-to-have-sex like me?"

Steve gaped. "I..."

"I didn't break you, did I?" Tony joked casually. Even though the divot between his eyebrows and the creases at the corners of his mouth said otherwise.

"I..."

"Wow. You know. When people use the phrase "eyes as big as saucers," I think they meant yours right now."

"Uh..."

"I _did_ break you." Tony dropped his eyes and leaned away. "Or you're taking a really long time to think of a way to lie to me. Steve, you like me romantically, right?"

Now his brain kicked on. " _Shit_!"

"Captain America swearing! That's got to mean _some_ thing, right?"

" _Tony_! Stop joking!" he whispered, heart flying and stomach twisting.

"Shit, Steve. Steve, I'm not making fun of you, I promise! I was just... I was wondering! I'm flattered! I am. I just..."

"You're in no place for a relationship," Steve blurted. Then winced mentally and forced a smile to his lips. "It's fine."

Tony stared at him. "Oh God. Liar. Now I've really broken you. Fuck. Steve. Shit. I'm messing this up. I don't... I'm—you're right. I'm not. Relationships. Bad. They don't work out for me. I screw it up. And you're my friend. My best friend. And I want..." Tony cut himself off with a groan and thrust his fingers into his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry—I don't... Wow. I've never really turned anybody down before. Not.. not like this. Not someone who matters... Oh Steve, I'm sorry."

Well. That wasn't too mortifying. Steve stared blankly at Tony's dark head that was curled down to avoid Steve's eyes. "Okay," he said faintly. "That's...fine. I'll just..." He shifted to move, but Tony's hand flew out to grab Steve's ankle. He blinked at it before following the skin up the arm to Tony's shoulder and then Tony's face. "Do you...uh..."

"Can you stay? God, I'm such a dick for asking, Steve..."

"I'll stay. Yeah. I'll always stay. You're still my best friend too, Tony," Steve found himself saying as he resettled.

* * *

In fact, Steve spent most of the next week with Tony. Whatever time he could spare, he spent with Tony. And came to three decisions. One, he was really desperately in love with Tony. Jan was right. He gave Tony preferential treatment, thought about him first usually and relied on him most, and he gave Tony special leniency in things (he usually let Tony's smart-mouth comments pass more often, let Tony eat the last whatever since he'd take ingested calories wherever he could, allowed more of Tony's chatter on the comms). Two, he was taking what he could get. If Tony didn't love him back, then he'd settle for best friends. Even if this line seemed blurred even to him, what with sleeping in the same bed and all. Which lead to three. Three. He had to stop sleeping in the same bed as Tony and spending so much time with the man. Because honestly, he was a little needy, and Steve just wanted to help in whatever way he could, but Tony was being so open (they still hadn't talked about what happened while he was kidnapped) and he didn't want to stifle that. Okay. Four decisions. Four, Steve had to stop behaving like a teenage girl. This was getting ridiculous.

But he finished the sandwich and grabbed the glass of milk and took it down to Tony in his workshop.

"Steve! Come see!" Tony's hand appeared over a pile of stuff, waving around.

"Hey, Tony. Are you hungry?"

"No, not right now, I'm in the middle of something. Come see!"

Setting the sandwich down on an uncluttered and relatively clean surface, Steve came over and squatted down next to Tony. "What is it?"

"Ta-da!"

Steve frowned. "Okay. But what _is_ it?" He reached out to touch the small black pieces of...something, but Tony slapped his hand away.

"Not yet, stupid. They're still a little fragile."

"What _are_ they?"

"They're trackers! And recorders! Tracker recorders. I'll have to think up a better acronym for them. But you stick it to your skin and then it'll assume your skin tone and be pretty much invisible. And they record what's going on. So like, you stick it to your forearm or something. And it records sound. And also relays a signal back _here_ , to the Tower where it can be tracked. So that way someone will be able to tell where you are if they need to. Isn't that awesome? It's awesome."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "That's what you've been working on?" He sat back and crossed his arms over his knees, listening to Tony ramble on. He was better. Physically. The burns had turned pink and shiny. The welts had gone down. The bruises were fading. The cuts were healing over and vanishing.

The first night after Steve had somehow confessed to his liking Tony, he had pulled one of the big armchairs towards the bed. Tony had looked at him, genuinely confused.

"I thought..." Steve's hands fluttered between the bed and the chair. "I'd sleep here...?"

Tony had just laughed. "Steve. Just because you dig me, doesn't mean I'm gonna make you sleep on a chair. You can join me in the bed." He'd teased and cajoled Steve until Steve gave in and curled up facing Tony. And then flipped over to face _away_ from Tony to watch the cracked door. And in the darkness, Tony had asked quietly, "Steve, why do you like me?"

He'd been quiet, honestly not knowing how to answer him.

"I know you're not asleep."

"Because you're a dick sometimes," Steve had quipped, grinning into his pillow as Tony shifted and let out an offended grunt.

"No seriously."

Steve had rolled over. "No seriously."

"You like me because I'm a jerk? What the hell, Rogers!"

He'd laughed. "Tony, I like you because you try. You're not perfect, and you're passionate. You really want me to tell you?" Again, his face felt hot. He was glad it had been dark.

"No. No, it's fine. Go to sleep." The sheets rustled again.

"Are you...okay with this, Tony?" He'd asked after a while. But Tony hadn't answered, just mumbled something that didn't even indicate he'd really heard.

"Steve, are you listening to me?"

He stared and blinked at Tony. "Yeah." Smiled.

"Liar." But Tony grinned as well and leaned towards him before rocking back and getting to his feet quickly. "You brought food?"

Steve nodded. "Your sandwich is over there on top of those boxes. Milk too."

"You're too good to me." He wiped a hand over his thigh and then grabbed the sandwich, eating it quickly and downing the milk in less time than Steve would have thought possible.

"Woah, slow down..." Steve leaned against a pillar, watching him.

"Okay, _mom_ ," Tony retorted, before brushing past him to his tracker devices.

"What are you doing now?"

"Gotta program them. You know. To peoples' specific signatures and stuff. And program their names and info into them. Coded, of course. They're unhackable, even if someone _did_ discover them, but they should never stop transmitting a 'here I am' signal. To the good guys..."

Steve shook his head and headed back upstairs to do some work for Fury and coordinate with Jan for meetings and emergencies.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this is the fic that just kept growing. It was supposed to be 7 chapters long. That didn't last... lol
> 
> Epilogue after this!

When Tony was alone in his workshop, he could almost pretend that nothing had happened. He'd thrown together tech for those stupid trackers, so someone would be able to be found. Before anything like...like what happened to _him_ could happen to anyone else. Steve convinced him to sleep every night, and, strangely enough, he _could_ , with Steve next to him. He didn't think about what it said about him that he let the guy that liked him sleep in his bed... _needy. user. Manipulator. advantage-taker._ But Steve was 'safe.' And if Steve was in between him and the door, then Tony would be safe. He grit his teeth as he slunk upstairs for a shower. Dirty. Still felt dirty. Even after. Too much death, too much destruction, ruin, chaos, blood, hurt—

He let out a little shout as he rounded the corner towards the kitchen and ran into Carol.

"Hey," she said with a small smile as she took a pace backwards.

Tony lowered his hands and offered her a grin that he hoped said 'I'm okay despite my little freak out here, let's just forget that happened, yeah? Just startled—okay bye!'

"What's new?" she asked like there was anything new in Tony's life.

"Nothing. Made something. Gotta go shower." He held up his hands again. "Dirty."

Too much shame.

He skirted Carol with a waggle of fingers and made it to his bathroom, panting. Leaning over the sink he chanced a glance at himself and then dropped his head. Too many shadows on his face. He shuddered. Fuck. This had to end. He stepped into the shower, leaving the clear door open, despite the fact that water would drip all over the floor. Half-way through, he pulled it shut. Clear glass. Shut doors should not scare Iron Man. Right? But his chest felt tight after minutes and when he pressed himself against the chilled tile of the back wall, his vision flashed and he was on the floor. Gasping. Cold tile. Cold concrete. Wounds. Blood. Guilt. Shame. He shook.

That's where Steve found him after the water'd run cold.

Steve slammed the water off and pulled Tony out, pulling him into his lap. "Tony! Jesus! Don't scare me like that! Shit—I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Wrong... thing to say... You're okay. You're safe. It's me. It's just me. It's Steve. I'm right here."

Tony breathed into Steve's t-shirt before letting out a ragged, "Fuck." And then shoved Steve away to stalk naked out of his own damn bathroom and put some damn clothes on. "I'm a grown fucking man," he bit out, not sure if it was to convince himself or Steve. Whoever needed it more, he supposed.

Steve followed. "Tony, you should have come to get me if you needed to shower..."

Steve meant well. God knows Steve meant well. But Tony stopped, fists balling, took a deep breath and went to his closet for a fresh pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt.

"Tony?"  
"I don't need a goddamn nanny to shower, Steve!" he snarled over his shoulder. Then cursed. For all his protectiveness, Steve's hurt feelings could be felt from the closet. " _Fuuuck_ , Steve! I didn't mean it! I just..." He pulled the T over his head and slumped in the doorway. "I just... I was... I was _fine_ after..." He swallowed. "After Afghanistan. And now..." Ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes as if that could make it all go away. "I just want to be _fine_ again."

"Tony..." Steve took his hands and pulled him towards the bed. Tony was so tired he let him. "I... And I don't know everything..."

"Goodness forbid."

Steve arched a patient brow at him. "I talked to someone. After I got out of the ice. It was... it _is_ a big adjustment. And I couldn't do it without talking to someone. And talking to you. You helped me through it."

"I talk to you," Tony said, staring at Steve. His brain wasn't caught up yet.

"Yeah. But I think..." Steve paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think that maybe you _should_ talk to someone. You know. Professional. It's not a bad thing! It's just—"

"Steve. _Steve_. I _know_ talking to a shrink isn't a bad thing. I just... I don't want to." He looked up into Steve's face and then groaned. "I don't want to! It has nothing to do with... I just. _Jesus_! Stop _staring_ at me like that!" He waved his hands up in the air between them and scooted away. "I don't like it. I can't do it. It doesn't help. I saw enough shrinks as a kid, and none of them did anything that helped."

"Tony," Steve said so gently that Tony had to suppress a flinch. "There's nothing wrong with that. I just... I don't know what to do to _help_!"

Hands gripping his knees tightly, Tony pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. "I don't know" snuck out, weak and a bit desperate.

Steve pulled him close again, against his chest, solid and warm.

Tony let him.

Just for a little while. Just until... Just until he could breathe on his own and not feel tied to a wooden chair.

* * *

He mostly stayed in the Tower for the next two weeks. Steve sleeping in his bed. The trackers went over well. Fury approved them. He went to two meetings, but didn't stay long because everyone treated him like he was made of the same fine China his mother set out for family holidays that consisted mostly of business associates who were as sick of their families as Howard was of his.

The first emergency, Steve had left Tony snug in the bed, a note dropped into his hand to find when he woke. He'd not been pleased. And so hid in his workshop for the next two days. Steve came down with coffee and breakfast, looking extremely contrite and small. Tony forgave him immediately.

"You can't keep me here just because... I mean, I'm better. Don't ground me, Steve—if you do I'll show up anyway," he said, gripping Steve's wrist tight. "I won't be left behind."

Steve rolled his eyes. "We're not leaving you behind. You were sleeping. And you needed the sleep. So I let you sleep. It has nothing...Okay it _does_ have to do with your situation, bu—"

"And stop calling it that!"

"Then what do you want me to call it?" Steve threw up his hands.

"I don't know, Steve. What do you call it in your head!" Tony pushed. Doing something had always helped. And if he couldn't help and be a part of the team, then he really would fall into some sort of manic depression or other psychosis.

"What do _I_ call it?" Steve rocked on his heels. "I call it shell-shock. Though I've been told it's more appropriately 'post-traumatic stress disorder.'"

"Everything's a fucking disorder these days," Tony sneered. "They've got _work shift_ disorder for fuck's sake!"

"What's tha—no. Tony, don't make this something less than what it is! It's a traumatic experience!"

"Gee, ya think!"

"Well you're treating it like something that will just...go away if you don't look at it!" Steve's brow furrowed as his voice got louder.

"It _will_ go away if I just stop looking at it!" Tony shouted back, nerves on fire. Release. Letting go. "And if people stop treating me like I'm going to break! I'm not that fragile!"

" _Tony_! You're only human! You _are_ fragile!" Steve's eyes widened as he realised what he said. "No, I didn—"

"Shut the hell up, Steve! Don't you dare back down!" Tony snarled, jabbing a finger into his chest. "That's exactly the type of behaviour that I mean!" He ended the sentence with a shove to Steve's chest. _Yes_. And was even more pleased when Steve looked shocked. "What now? Can't be a little rough because I'm Tony Stark and I was just held captive and tortured?" He snorted. "Not the first time. I got home from Afghanistan and they brought me a _wheelchair_. I could walk just fine, Steve. I ended weapons-production _that. Day._ They all said it was because I had just gotten back. Oh Tony's sick still. _Fuck that_." He was sure the expression on his face was a nasty sort of grin, but it was a grin nonetheless, and he felt a stab of satisfaction at Steve's wide-eyed look. And took a step closer into Steve's space."And you know what, Steve? They all said I was confused and disoriented. But you know what? My head had never been clearer! All I wanted was a fucking American cheeseburger and to stop peoples' suffering because of my products. That was _all_. _ALL_. I wanted."

"And what do you want now?" Steve's voice was quiet again, and he looked down at Tony, curious.

A torrent of words expected, Tony stood there, momentum interruptus. Nothing to say. "I want..." He swallowed. "I want no one to ever experience that type of situation again."

Steve nodded, expression softening. "Yeah. Thought so. That's why I love you."

His jaw dropped.

Eyes flying wide, almost panicked, Tony would say, Steve stepped back until he ran into a table and jarred a couple screws, wrenches, and other paraphernalia to the floor. "Shi—"

Tony laughed. And when Steve's panic turned to blatant confusion, he laughed harder, laughing until he bent at the waist, gasping from it. Like a switch turned on he couldn't stop.

"Tony?"

Steve's feet appeared in his peripheral.

Again, "Tony?" But this time, hurt.

And that turned off the switch quickly. "Steve. Oh Steve. I'm not laughing at you. Not laughing at you." He grabbed Steve's wrists and levered himself upright. "You panicked. I've never seen you panic."

Steve still looked panicked, eyes wide, searching. "I didn't..."

"Nah, don't take it back now." Tony gave him a crooked grin. "Love, huh?" And chuckled when Steve turned bright red.

"I don't want..." he said in a small voice, "...to make things...awkward."

Tony snorted. "Steve. You've been sleeping in my bed. You've seen me naked. Crying. Brought me food. I think things are past awkward. In fact, I'd say we've probably been dating for oh..." Tony shrugged. "A while."

Steve gaped.

Tony laughed. "Wow. So this is letting go."

Steve's brows furrowed again. "What are you talking about?"

"Geeze. This is..." Looking up at the ceiling, he sighed. It was like another switch, flipped. "Freeing. It's really freeing."

"I don't... I don't understand."

Tony turned away and sank into a chair, mind whirring away while he looked up at Steve. "I don't know if I understand either."

"What? Tony. What's going on? First you were fighting with me, now... Are we dating?"

He grinned. "I think so." He let Steve sputter some more for about thirty seconds, then said, "I'm still not sure this is such a great idea... 'Cause let's be honest. I think I crash and burn more than I get off the ground."

"That's a terrible metaphor," Steve said faintly, staring at Tony for longer than socially appropriate.

"Fair enough. Never claimed to be a poet. Always better with machines and stuff than words and people."

"But you're great with people," Steve said in that same echoey voice that said he didn't know what was going on.

"No, Steve. I'm great with press people and using people." He bit his lip against the sudden unease that crept in under his relief. "I don't... I don't know how to proceed. Now. 'Cause um... Maybe dinner. Wanna go to dinner? I can get dressed."

"Tony. I just brought you breakfast."

"Forget breakfast. Blink, dammit! Your staring is reaching levels of creepy I've never associated with you before." Steve blinked. "Better. Fine. Lunch? No. Now. Let's go out to breakfast. Too late," he said, glancing at a clock. "Brunch?" He stood.

"Uh..."

"Rogers! Snap out of it!"

Steve shook his head. "Brunch? If you want. I mean, you've not left the Tower for crowded places."

Tony waved it away. "It's been too long. I'm not a coward. I'm not afraid."

"No one said you were, Tony," Steve said gently.

"We're going out," he said with a decisive nod. "We'll take the Jag. And _I'm_ driving. I'll even get dressed. See what I do for you, Rogers?" He felt rewarded as Steve blushed.

"Uh, you don't have to...court me. You know. I already said—"

"I know what you said. But now I've got to _earn_ it!"

"No!"

He jerked and looked at Steve sharply, flinching back when Steve reached towards him.

"No, Tony. You don't have to earn it. That's... that's what love _is_." Steve reached again and Tony let him take his hands. "Love means that you don't earn it. I just love you." He shrugged. "Just because."

He swallowed. Maybe he was getting sick. After all this... His throat was sore. He swallowed again, looking down at his bare feet. Maybe he should have worn socks. The pavement was kind of chilled. But he liked feeling the floor beneath bare feet.

"Tony?"

"I got it," he said, voice rough. "I just... Fuck." He shook his head and tugged a hand free from Steve's grasp, scrubbing a fist over an eye. "I don't..." Cleared his throat. "Gosh, Steve, you say the sweetest things..." The joke fell flat. So horribly flat. He turned his head away. Steve, bless him. Steve chuckled anyway.

"Mocking me already?" he teased back gently.

Head tilted, Tony brought his eyes up to Steve's chin, far enough to see the signs of a smile. Not far enough to see the blues. But he knew. They wouldn't be judging. They wouldn't be mocking. They wouldn't be scheming. They wouldn't be searching for some crack, some way in.

"Tony?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I want to do this."

"Huh?"

"Making up my mind. I've uh...not really done this before. You know me and serious relationships. It's like we're always the same magnetic pole. Or they, you know, try to kill me. Or want to kill me or..." He snapped his mouth shut. "But I wanna try. And we'll see. I'm not making any promises."

"Not asking for them." Steve's smile grew.

"And I don't know about you, but I don't have any experience with guys. So I'm gonna try that too."

Steve flushed again. "Uh, no. No experience."

"Right. Cool. The internet it is." At Steve's horrified expression, he quickly rushed out, "But we can worry about that later! Geeze. Listen. I'll go get dressed. I'll shower first. And then I'll take you out. I know a great breakfast-brunchy place. Like a real date. And I won't freak out. I'll even sit with my back open."

"I'm sure they'll accommodate and find us a back corner," Steve said, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

He made an impatient noise. "It's fine. It'll be fine. You'll see. I'll be fine!"

"Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotionally unstable?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Barton teach you that?"

"How'd you guess?"

He snorted. "Who else would?"

Steve laughed and cupped Tony's hand in his. "Yeah."

"Yeah? So we gonna do this?" He met Steve's eyes and calmed his heart with a slow breath.

Pulling Tony closer, Steve settled their linked hands over his heart. "I'd really like to."

Tony nodded. "Good. Good. That's good." And then grinned widely, thinking things would be okay. Things might just be okay. He would live. And he would deal. He would go out. Be okay in crowds again. Be okay in the field again. Sleep normally in a bed again. "I'll be fine again."

Steve smiled and pulled Tony closer, pressing his lips to his forehead, his free hand settling in the small of Tony's back.

And it was fine. Not weird. Not uncomfortable. Different. He was used to being the taller one. But this was fine. He smiled and pulled away. "I'm gonna go shower. Then we'll go. Get dressed." He skirted passed Steve and then paused, cocked his head and then grabbed a handful of Steve's ass, getting a choked shriek for his efforts. He cracked up and darted to the elevator to take him back up to the top floor, sticking his tongue out at Steve as he dashed for the door. Steve made it in the door, and as he backed Tony into the corner, he didn't even feel claustrophobic. It was going to be just fine. He smiled as their lips met for the first time.


	10. Epilogue

Laughing as they tumble into Tony's room, Steve glanced at Tony for permission to close the door. Tony nodded and they waited a minute to be sure Tony was okay. He was fine. Steve crowded into his space, kissing him gently, hands splayed across his back. Tony stumbled backwards and fell on to his bed, Steve following him downwards, landing on his hands. Taking the opportunity of lips free, he breathed deep and smiled. "Tonight the night?"

Steve cocked his head. "It is our—approximate—one year anniversary..."

Tony snorted, running his hands up over Steve's chest. "Is that a yes?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that made Steve roll his eyes.

Steve collapsed onto the bed next to Tony, pulling him on top of him. "I... Yes."

"You sure?" Tony pressed small kisses to his jaw, gripping his wrists.

"Can we?"

"I did the research."

Steve made a face.

Tony laughed. "You wanna do me, or should I do you? Oh, sorry baby. I offend your delicate sensibilities?"

Rolling them over, Steve growled something about 'delicate sensibilities' and stripped Tony's shirt off him efficiently. He was working on his pants when Tony squirmed out his grasp and went for the bedside table.

"Which way, soldier?"

"Do me," Steve said lowly, eyes dropped and cheeks pink.

Tony snorted. "Steve, you've sucked my dick, and you can't say you wanna ride me?"

"Won't I squish you a bit. Shouldn't you be on top?"

He shrugged, tossing a tube of lube onto the bed and a condom. "That's fine with me."

"You sure you know how this works?"

"Insert tab A into slot C." Tony grinned, making quick work of Steve's pants and tossing them onto the floor. "You locked the door, right?"

"Hung a sock and everything," Steve grinned, helping him work his boxers off.

"Oh you didn't?" Tony gasped as Steve ran his hands up Tony's ribs. "Stop that. You're distracting. You're being a distraction. From our union. Finally."

"This isn't the end of the Civil War, Tony," Steve said, dropping his knees to the side.

"I love it when you make war jokes. We're becoming one country again." He slicked his fingers and pressed them along Steve's crack.

Steve giggled.

"Steve. Ruining the mood here, babe."

"Sorry. It just...Tickles." He flushed and looked away.

Tony bent forward and kissed him breathless, fingers teasing around his hole until he's gasping against Tony's mouth. "Ready?"

"Yeah, yeah...!" Steve whined as Tony presses one finger in, squirming on the sheets.

"You okay?"

Steve breathed and nodded. "Feels weird. Not bad weird, just...weird..."

Tony pressed kisses across his collarbone, easing his finger in and out. Shifting on his knees, Tony's forehead bumped Steve's chin, setting the other man to giggles again. Tony huffed, nipping his lower lip. "Are you mature enough for this, Steve?"

"Tony... Tony I have a finger up my ass, and I'm older than you anyway."

"Not the way it counts," Tony grumbled, twisting his finger in deeper.

Steve yelped.

"Okay."

"Oh god."

"Good?"

"Yes. Whatever that was...!" His hands gripped Tony's shoulders.

"Prostate, I assume. Ready for two?"

"I think so?"

Easing back, Tony pressed a second finger tight to his first, dribbling more lube across them both. Steve giggled at the snort from the bottle. "Really, Steve?"

"Wha—ah! Wait! Wait!"

Tony circled them around Steve's hole instead of pressing in. "Let me know when you're ready."

"Okay. Okay, go. I'm ready."

There were another couple of starts and stops, Steve giggling over noises and flushing bright red, Tony teasing him and tickling him deliberately. "Okay. Ready?" Tony had the condom rolled on and slicked up.

Meeting his eyes, Steve nodded. "Yeah. Come on."

Tony grinned and kissed him hard, passing a hand over Steve's cock before hoisting one of his legs over his shoulder. As he nudged his cock in close, Steve's breath hitched.

"You're sure this is how it works?"

"Yeah. If you want penetration. You want it?"

Steve blinked up at him, pupils wide, eyes wider. "Yeah. I do. I trust you."

Tony ducked his head. "Fuck, I don't deserve you."

But Steve gripped his wrist. "Yes. Yes, you do. I love you, okay? I won't stop."

"Unless I do something horrible."

"Yeah, like not getting your...getting _in_ me."

Tony laughed, breathless and pushed the head of his dick in. "Okay? Tell me it's okay, Steve. Fuuuuck, I wanna go all the way."

"Do it!" Steve's hips arched up and Tony slid inside.

He rocked slowly until he was in all the way, forcing his breathing slow and even. "Okay?"

"It uh..." Steve squirmed a little, gasping. "Wow. Okay. Feels weird. Full, God, I feel really full."

Tony groaned.

"It's good. Come on, Tony, it's good." He arched up into Tony, reaching behind him to grip the headboard.

Thrusting wasn't so different between a guy and a woman. It was still tight heat and friction and _God_ that was good. Tony snapped his hips forwards and Steve yelped.

"Fine! God, do that again!"

Prostate again. Tony bit his lip, trying for the same angle. Missed. Hit it about once every three thrusts. He squeezed his eyes shut, forced them open, Steve. _Steve_ laid out before him. Everything else, melting away. "Steve, oh _fuck_. Steve, you close?" He let go of his grip on Steve's knee over his shoulder and pressed down on Steve's erection, gritting his teeth against the whine that passed through his lips. Steve arched hard to meet Tony thrust for thrust.

"Y-yeah...! Come on. Come on. I'm so close. Squeeze me again."

Tony pumped him counter-measure to his thrusts and gasped as Steve tightened around him letting out a keen as his cock jerked in his hand. Twice more into Steve and he was gasping his name and curling over him. He sagged there a moment until Steve pushed at him, gasping, "Tony! My leg—ow! Doesn't bend _quite_ that fa—ah. O-oh _oh_!" as Tony pulled out. He giggled again.

"Jesus, Steve... A five year old. Seriously." But he chuckled and reached across him for some tissues to clean him off before dropping the condom in the trash and cleaning himself. Sprawling across the sheets he sighed. "Good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, good." Steve turned his head, giving him a smile. "It was good. You gonna be okay if we leave the door shut?"

"Yeah..." Tony eyed it, feeling none of the previous unease. "I think I'm gonna be fine." And rolled over towards Steve, wrapping himself around him.

Steve's arms came up to settle around Tony. "Good. We're going to be fine."

"Yup," Tony sighed, his eyes sliding shut. "A week with no nightmares and going strong. I blame my personal teddy bear."

"I accept full responsibility for that," Steve said solemnly. "G'night, Tony."

"Night, babe," he mumbled, drifting off. Everything was turning out just fine.


End file.
